Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, Maomao wanted to be a healer. As the adoptive daughter of Luomen, one of the best magic healers in all of Li, she had begun her training at an early age.
Members of the La Clan were especially gifted magic-users in a world where the ability to harness magic was becoming something of a rarity. Her father used his magic to heal the wounded and the sick, and was thus sought after by commoners, soldiers, and nobility alike. He was truly a wizard of his time, having traveled far to Western lands to uncover tomes and sacred texts to teach him incredible spells. The spells in which he specialized allowed him to heal people in a multitude of ways. He could reattach limbs, close gaping wounds, cure illnesses, and save a person from the brink of death if the right conditions were present.
But, he could not do the impossible; this was something Maomao had learned as a young child.
She and her father would often forage in the outdoors and look for injured animals along the way. Healing animals was Maomao’s first foray into using healing magic. When she had found a baby bird with a broken wing, her father had shown her how to remedy the bird’s wing with a commonly used healing spell—sanigi—and, instantly, the bird’s wing had been fixed. Maomao soon proved to be a protégé, having quickly learned how to heal the animals they came across. Until one day, she found an animal they could not save.
“Why isn’t it breathing?” She looked up at Luomen with wide, glossy eyes. Her tears threatened to spill any moment, but she swallowed uncomfortably as she tried to hold them back.
“My child.” Luomen gently ruffled his daughter’s hair, maintaining his somber expression. “This little mouse is dead. I cannot turn back time. Once a creature dies, it has met its final end and there is no reversing it.”
Maomao peered up at her father as he crouched down beside her. She was cupping the mouse in her hands. “Do all creatures die?”
He was quiet for a moment before answering, “Yes, all creatures that live will, eventually, die. It is the way of the natural order.”
Maomao sniffled and gingerly laid the mouse onto a pile of leaves. Even though the mouse was dead, she demonstrated a reverence for it that warmed something in Luomen.
Her voice trembled as she asked, “Will you die one day, Pa?” She quickly averted her eyes as she asked the question, already knowing the answer.
There was some silence before he softly replied, “Yes. One day, I will die.”
His hand found one of Maomao’s as he slowly pulled her into his embrace. Maomao reciprocated the hug, holding onto her father’s robes tightly and hiding her face as her tears finally spilled.
“But,” she heard him whisper in a reassuring tone, “that day is not today. And, it will not be for some time.”
Maomao shuddered into his chest as the last of her tears fell. Luomen rubbed her back and held her until she made to stand up. Later that night, as Maomao snuggled closely with her father, she resolved in her heart to be the best healer in the world. She would find a way to defeat death. She knew not how she would achieve this but swore to make it her life’s mission to figure out how.
As the years passed her by, Maomao's abilities bloomed. She learned most of the spells Luomen taught her with relative ease. In fact, she discovered she was able to practice spells without needing to relentlessly study the old tomes as most spellcasters would. Like most magic-users, Luomen became an expert in his craft by diligently reading, memorizing, and mastering books upon books of spells; something that took him decades to do.
But Maomao's magic was innate, born through raw talent and a deep magic nestled somewhere within her bloodline. Sorcerers, as they were called, could naturally conjure magic as a matter of birthright. Sorcerers were much rarer compared to wizards or witches, who needed spellbooks to uphold mastery over their magic. Other magic-users could wield magic through pacts or oaths they made with higher beings, and were beholden to the whims and biddings of these beings to maintain their magical abilities. As a sorceress, Maomao was part of an elite few who were magically gifted. Most days, she was grateful for her gifts.
There was the occasional moment she would feel undermined whenever those who were envious of her attempted to belittle and deride her efforts. “You didn't spend the time necessary to truly learn that spell,” they'd sneer.
She was made to feel as though her skills came without merit. Even though the magic came naturally to her, Maomao nevertheless worked hard to learn as many spells as possible. And she did not wish to simply learn them, but to execute them with as much precision as she could. She did not want to fix a broken arm or patch up a wound in sloppy fashion, but cleanly; and, she wanted her spells to last. Luomen recounted quite a few anecdotes where a healer hadn't performed a spell correctly and the consequences were such that the spell did not last or have the intended effect.
So Maomao, ever a perfectionist, spent several hours each day practicing a spell until it was fully mastered. It mattered not if it took her days, weeks, or months—she wanted; no, needed—to be the best at her craft.
Maomao even went so far as to experiment on herself to practice her healing magic. In order to have something to heal, she would first need to find something or someone in a state of injury. Maomao taught herself about various poisons and toxins that could mimic the symptoms of different illnesses and would test those substances on herself. Then, she would use her magic to heal herself. Luomen had referred to her as a “mad scientist” when he'd caught her reversing the effects of snake venom using her magic. He had initially been impressed only to later become extremely concerned when he had walked in on her preparing to amputate her little finger so she could reattach it using magic.
It was why, once she turned seventeen, he encouraged her to further her training directly under the tutelage of the La Clan—something Maomao was resistant to do.
Luomen himself was disavowed from the La Clan almost two decades ago after bringing them shame with the untimely death of the former emperor's infant son. He had voluntarily become a eunuch to serve as a magic healer in the rear palace, where he had been tasked with overseeing the health of the late emperor's consorts and would-be heirs. Such a task had been especially important because the Imperial line had been at risk of extinction after the late emperor's siblings had died suddenly. Many believed they had succumbed to a merciless plague, but others still believed the Imperial line was cursed by a higher being or deity who held them in disfavor. There were some things other than death he could not cure, and those were curses. With some exceptions, most curses could be revoked by the curse's caster or with the advent of the caster's death. It had never been obvious to Luomen the Imperial family was cursed, but even so, to undo a curse would necessitate understanding its origins and the originator of said curse. With such unknowns, he could have done nothing more than keep the late emperor in good health, along with his consorts and any potential offspring.
As fate would have it, Luomen had been charged with overseeing the births of both the late emperor's child and his grandchild; the latter being the firstborn of the former crown prince. Because the births had occurred simultaneously, he'd found himself pulled in different directions. Although a complication had arisen with the prince's consort, Ah-Duo, he had been forced away by the late empress regnant to prioritize the delivery of the emperor's second son. After hours of difficult laboring, Empress Anshi had given birth to a stillborn son. Unable to do anything more for the former empress, he had returned to Consort Ah-Duo's side. But by the time he had returned, she had already lost her womb. He had tried to reaffix it immediately after the delivery of her son, but her uterus had been decomposing by the time he'd returned to perform his healing magic.
While he could not reattach a dead organ to a living body, he could magically transplant a healthy donor uterus. And so, Ah-Duo's ladies-in-waiting had readily offered up their wombs for transplantation, yet the consort had refused. As Consort Ah-Duo was of elvish lineage, a donor organ would not have had the special properties of an elven one—which would have defeated the purpose of introducing elvish blood to strengthen and add longevity to the near-extinct Imperial line. With the draconic ancestry of the Imperial line mixed with Consort Ah-Duo's elvish ancestry, there had been hope that new Imperial heirs would be born with the ancient power and mandate of heaven bestowed upon them by the Dragon God along with the ageless immortality of the elves. But Consort Ah-Duo had given birth to one son only and would never be able to have more children. Although it had not been Luomen's fault, he had nevertheless been blamed. As punishment, the empress regnant had ordered one of Luomen's kneecaps painfully removed and had banished him from the rear palace for his failure. Disgrace had fallen upon the La Clan—the very clan he was now encouraging Maomao to join.
Although it would be for the betterment of her magical training, Maomao was supremely reluctant to practice under the La Clan. Luomen recommended it because as capable of a mage as he was, he specialized in healing and defensive magic only. He was not as familiar with offensive spells and also wanted Maomao to have the opportunity to make a real impact by healing wounded soldiers—something she would be able to do as a ward of Grand Commandant Lakan, head of the La Clan and Li's chief military tactician. Lakan also happened to be Maomao's biological father and the one she dispassionately referred to as “the freak.” In actuality, Luomen was Lakan's uncle, and subsequently, Maomao's biological great-uncle. As far as Maomao was concerned, Luomen would always be her father.
After more convincing, Maomao reluctantly agreed to set out with Lakan on one of his military campaigns to attain greater experience as a healer and spellcaster. Luomen needed to stay behind to manage his health clinic on behalf of all the common-folk who desperately relied on his care.
Maomao did not know when she would see him again.
One campaign had turned into several over the course of two years. Maomao regularly used her magic to heal soldiers. She would reattach and transplant limbs, seal wounds, and had even learned how to cast enhancements—spells that amplified a soldier's features and skills. An enhancement could make a soldier physically stronger, faster, fortify their constitution, and cast a cloud of temporary invulnerability. Maomao was also learning offensive spells, even though she never fought on the front lines. She was relegated to the makeshift infirmaries established at their campsites. Lakan would never put her in harm's way, though Maomao yearned to support the soldiers in the throes of battle as this was where she believed she could be most effective.
Approaching Lakan's tent one evening, she announced in a flat tone, “I am available for dinner.”
With boundless excitement, Lakan hastily emerged from his tent and appeared utterly in awe of Maomao.
“My precious flower,” he grinned. “I would be more than happy to have dinner with you!”
Maomao ordinarily did not have meals with Lakan, preferring to eat alone or, on more celebratory occasions, with the soldiers. Even after two years under his instruction, Maomao made it a point to emphasize her indifference towards Lakan. He did not raise her and he could never be Luomen.
“Come, come sit by me,” Lakan chirped as he held open the flap of his tent for Maomao to enter. Maomao walked into his tent and sat opposite from him at a low table. As the Grand Commandant, Lakan was afforded a rather large tent. Dinner was served to Maomao and Lakan by one of the cooks who promptly excused himself.
Grateful to have an audience with Maomao, Lakan smiled, “To what do I owe the pleasure of having my lovely daughter's company on this auspicious night?”
Maomao cleared her throat before meeting Lakan's adoring gaze with steely eyes of her own. “I wish to accompany the soldiers tomorrow when they fight off the last group of raiders. I would be more helpful if I could follow and support them from nearby rather than wait for them to come back half-dead.”
Lakan stared at Maomao with an alarmed expression. “You wish to accompany the soldiers into battle? My dear, that would be so unbelievably irresponsible and dangerous of me to allow.”
Maomao's blue eyes glinted with intensity. “More irresponsible and dangerous than letting our men suffer? Letting them bleed out on the battlefield when I could be there to save them?”
She growled as she questioned, “Would the Emperor be okay with learning there was a capable sorceress who could have healed his men but was told to wait on the sidelines, instead?”
Lakan's face inched closer, a somber expression taking over. “I would not be okay if something happened to you.”
Maomao drew a long sigh. “I know you worry for me, but I can do this.”
She cautiously looked around the room before continuing, “What of our enemy? Do they have spellcasters, too? Wouldn’t that give more reason for me to be present?”
With pleading eyes, she pressed on, “It’s like a game of Shogi. You can’t have just one bishop on the board—you need to have two. I can help you.”
Lakan shook his head. “But you are not a bishop, daughter. You are an irreplaceable queen.”
“And a queen,” Maomao paused before eyeing Lakan with mild irritation, “is supposed to protect. I have a duty to our people. Let me do what I came out here to do. It’s been years and I’ve been practicing the offensive magic you taught me.”
She knitted her eyebrows together and kept her gaze on Lakan, whose resolve was wavering. “Please,” she all but begged.
Several moments passed in silence before Lakan breathed, “Fine.”
His expression hardened. “You can join us but you must stay within line of sight at all times. And you will not be on the offensive, but will act defensively and in a supporting role as a healer. You cannot act brashly. It only takes one misstep to get hurt… or worse.”
Lakan’s eyes pierced Maomao’s, an unspoken fear washing over his face.
Maomao placed a hand over Lakan’s. It was an uncharacteristic act; she felt the need to placate him. “I promise I will be safe. I will follow your orders.”
Lakan’s voice quivered slightly. “Good.”
He studied Maomao for a few seconds, feeling equal parts worried and proud. “Well, then. Shall we review the arena?”
Maomao nodded, determination adorning her features.
With a wave of his hand, Lakan summoned a three-dimensional image of the map where their next conflict would take place. He pointed to the map, “We are here.
The raiders who have taken over the village will likely approach us from the hillside. I will use my magic to create a fog to level the playing field. They will be at a slightly higher elevation but such a vantage won’t be useful if they cannot see us coming. You will follow behind the soldiers while I scout ahead. Upon my signal, we will charge. You will continue to maintain your distance. As spellcasters, we are at a disadvantage if we fight up close. Do you understand?”
Maomao resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “I understand,” she replied.
After Lakan finished explaining their battle strategy, he attempted to change the topic to something less charged.
“So,” he started, “seeing as this last effort should wrap up our mission to reclaim the Emperor’s territories, what of your plans after this ends?
“Have you given any consideration to joining me back home? Lahan would be overjoyed for his sister to come live with us. You are the La Clan’s princess, after all.”
Referring to her cousin, Lahan, Maomao grunted, “I’m not his sister and I’m not part of your clan.”
“But if you wish to become officially certified as an independently practicing mage, you will first need a recommendation to take the mage exam. Who better to back you than the La clan?”
“We can cross that bridge later. May I take my leave?”
Lakan sighed before looking at Maomao with a defeated smile. “Yes. Rest well. We will begin our trek towards the village early in the morning. I expect we will get there within a few hours.”
“Very well, then.” Maomao made to leave, sending Lakan a short glance before exiting his tent.
Lakan sighed, again, before muttering to himself, “I hope I do not come to regret this.”
As soon as daybreak arrived, Maomao took her place alongside the soldiers in their marching formation. She was dressed in blue mage robes and riding boots. Her green hair was pulled back into a neat bun with her bangs framing her face.
A young officer on a horse rode up beside her, offering a hand. “Come now, little Miss. Your father said you would be riding with me.”
Maomao stared up at the man and took his hand as he pulled her up. “Thanks, Lihaku.”
As Maomao arranged herself behind Lihaku on his horse, she gripped her mage’s staff with one hand while holding onto him with the other. She briefly studied the plain, wooden staff in her hand—a cherished gift from Luomen—before turning her attention to the matter at hand.
“The Grand Commandant entrusted me to make sure you stay out of harm's way today,” Lihaku stated. “You'll be safe with me.”
“Thanks, I'm here to support you, too,” Maomao replied.
She regarded Lihaku for a moment. She knew he was a ranger: someone especially skilled in archery, combat, and animal handling. Lihaku was often spotted with his animal familiar, but today, the canine was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is your companion?”
“Oh, he's staying behind. Someone needs to guard the campsite while we're away. Plus, he's just a pup in training. I don't want him on the battlefield, yet.”
The irony was not lost on Maomao as she mused how Lakan must have felt the same about wanting her to stay at the campsite. He probably considered her to be his pup. But that's where he was wrong. She was more than ready for this.
The hours they marched on went by mostly in silence, with Lakan and a select few soldiers scouting ahead. As Maomao felt them drawing nearer to their destination, she nudged Lihaku.
“I can cast a protection spell over you.”
Lihaku turned his head slightly to look at Maomao, “Maybe it'd be better if you cast your protection over the men ahead of us. They could probably use it more.
“Besides,” he shot Maomao a confident grin, “my arrows will get any enemy before they can reach us.”
Maomao gave him a small smile, “I don't doubt your skills. I'll cast a wide net to cover as many as I can.” Maomao raised her staff and cast a protection spell encompassing a thirty yard radius. She and the soldiers in her circle would be shielded from basic projectile attacks as long as her concentration held.
A steady fog began to roll in as Lakan chanted a spell, capturing the air's moisture. Ever the strategist, he mastered spells that modified surrounding elements and terrain, always changing the variables on the board. He made the fog thick enough for their troops to remain hidden from enemies in the distance but not so thick they couldn't easily maneuver ahead. The mist gradually began to clear as they crossed over the hillside, unimpeded. The outline of the village came into view.
“Halt,” Lakan called out. Everyone had been prepared for an ambush but they were met without resistance. It made them grow even more cautious.
“Easy now,” Lihaku could be heard softly murmuring to his horse as the creature grew restless. Most people would hardly think twice about a soldier attempting to pacify his steed, but Lihaku possessed the special ability to speak with animals. It was a type of ancient magic unique to the descendants of his clan.
A few seconds passed before they resumed their march forward. Without warning, Maomao heard what sounded like a firework. Then, in a flash—she saw it—streaks of fire hurtling towards them from the sky.
She heard a shout, “Take cover!”
She saw soldiers raise their shields. Her grip on her staff tightened as she maintained concentration. Her protection spell repelled the fiery blasts but she could feel it weakening as they were pelted by a relentless barrage.
Suddenly, a large figure ran towards them—a ten-foot-tall ogre, wielding a spear. It violently barreled through a group of men, goring them in the process. Her attention divided, Maomao jumped off the horse while rushing to heal the fallen, no longer able to keep up a magical barricade. Lakan moved to counter the oncoming projectiles with his own defensive spell, attempting to shield his men. There was a clashing of weapons on both sides, with soldiers fighting to force back the band of raiders. It was obvious a mage had been responsible for the hail of flames raining down on them. Lakan was quick to use counterspells to block their attacks and even returned fire. Maomao was crouched low, tending quickly to the wounded. The ones she healed were able to immediately re-join the fray, giving them a much needed advantage as the enemy appeared incapable of replenishing their numbers. Noticing this, one of the raiders angrily bellowed, “Kill their healer!”
The ogre pivoted towards Maomao, knocking over anyone in its path to get to her. Mounted on his horse, Lihaku steered towards her. He began firing poison-tipped arrows at the ogre where there were splits in its armor, piercing the flesh right above the left clavicle. It was enough to slow the monstrous brute down but not enough to stop it. He leapt off his steed and appeared in front of Maomao just as the ogre came within attacking distance. She stared up in horror as he took a defensive stance with a raised forearm, shielding her from coming into contact with the ogre's jaw. The sickening crunch of bones was heard as the enraged beast bit into his arm. His agonizing screams of pain were all she could register as the ogre tore his right arm clean off his torso.
Moments later, the ogre appeared to grow sluggish as it chewed the arm in its mouth before swallowing it down its gullet. The poison arrows were beginning to take effect, coursing through the creature's system until it stumbled backwards. A nearby soldier took advantage of this opening to finish the ogre off by using both hands to forcefully swing his sword down on its head, cleaving its skull between the eyes. The ogre fell to its knees and slumped over with a reverberating thud, now a heaping corpse with chunks of brain strewn on the ground.
Forcing herself out of her shock, Maomao rushed to stop Lihaku from bleeding out. Her hands trembled as she grabbed her staff, frantically assessing her surroundings for his missing arm. With a surreal sense of realization and dread, she replayed the scene of his arm being mangled and eaten. There would be no limb to reattach because it was gone.
In this instant, Maomao never felt more devastated. Time slowed as her face twisted in anguish, a rage building inside her. She wondered how she could let this happen to Lihaku—he who just saved her life. How could she fail him in such a catastrophic way? She would never be able to forgive herself for this. Still shaking, she recited a spell that would cauterize his wound to stop the bleeding. He was losing consciousness. She touched the section of his shoulder from where his arm had been ripped off, fisting the grass beneath them with her other hand. She let loose a strangled cry, slamming the ground with an open palm.
Why couldn't she fix this? She should know how to fix this. She should know.
Maomao knew she was spiraling but couldn't stop. All her flaws and insecurities were laid bare. She was nothing more than a fraud exposed. She didn't want to stop the intrusive thoughts. She didn't deserve any grace or pity. Only contempt and shame.
Through her choked cries and languid tears, the air around them shifted. She didn't notice, too fractured and distraught. She hated this feeling of powerlessness. She refused to succumb to it. She grit her teeth, panting—she would not accept defeat—not yet.
As her emotions whirled, her fury unrestrained, something inexplicably deep and primordial within her being ebbed to the surface. As she rested her hand on Lihaku—where his arm should have been—she swore she could envision his limb being reconstructed. Like she was studying a picture in one of her anatomy books, she could see tendons, blood, bones, and muscles materializing, reattaching themselves to his body. She could see—no—feel the warmth of his skin, feel an arm where it hadn't been a second ago. She blinked disbelievingly. Was this an arm? His arm?
She couldn't see the way her eyes glowed with power. She didn't see the way energy crackled at the tips of her fingers. Didn't hear the way Lakan yelled out for her. Didn't register who she was or the full weight of what she had done at that moment. She didn't see. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp.
And then the world as she knew it plunged into darkness.