"Kohtalo, wake up."

  A young girl’s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light of the chamber. Her gaze shifted to a faint glow at the room's far end.

  A shadowed figure stood at the entrance, holding a lantern that cast flickering light across the walls. He coughed harshly, clearing his throat. "Do you need more rest, Kohtalo?"

  She shook her head and carefully rose from a fur rug. "No, I’m ready."

  The man raised the lantern higher, revealing a face lined with age and wear. His voice rasped as he turned toward the passage ahead. "Then let’s go. There’s much to do."

  He held the lantern aloft as Kohtalo passed under its light, stepping into the corridor. He followed closely, letting her take the lead.

  They moved through branching tunnels, their footsteps soft against the stone, until they stopped abruptly and turned left.

  Before them stood a crooked wooden door, its surface rough and splintered. Kohtalo pressed a hand against it and pushed, the hinges groaning softly as the door opened. She stepped inside, the man close behind her.

  The room they entered was circular and modestly furnished. Two cushions were on the floor, several clay pots and bowls were neatly arranged on a stone shelf, and a carved set of drawers was tucked against the wall.

  The old man's robes billowed as he settled onto a cushion, his strained joint protesting the movement. He sighed and set the lantern down before turning to Kohtalo. "Bring the small mortar and pestle."

  The girl nodded and went to the shelf. She carefully lifted the pestle—a club-shaped tool—and a stone bowl, the mortar. Cradling the items in her arms, she brought them to the old man and set them gently on the stone floor.

  The man gazed at Kohtalo steadily, waiting for her to sit across from him before speaking. "Sore throat, ten cycles old," he said, folding his arms. "What ingredients are needed?"

  Kohtalo hesitated for a moment. "Glykóriza, Méli, Piperóriza."

  He rested his hands beneath his chin, nodding slightly. "Your reasoning?"

  "Piperóriza is for relieving sore throats and perhaps nausea. Since the recipient is ten, she'll need the Méli for any injuries and to calm her cough when she sleeps."

  The old man closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "And the Glykóriza?"

  Kohtalo shrugged her shoulders. "For headaches, maybe?"

  The man softly chuckled, tremors running through his body. "A good combination. The only thing I'd add would be dyosmos—to reduce any irritation." His laughs transitioned into coughs leading him to restrain himself. "Ok, begin preparing it."

  Kohtalo nodded and stood up. The old man drew a water pouch from under his robe and motioned for her to come closer. He tilted the pouch and had her meticulously wash her hands over the running water. She walked to the drawer after she finished and swiftly removed the required ingredients with practiced ease. A combination of wooden jars, bowls, and leather pouches were withdrawn, some returned after a brief inspection while the rest were kept. She gathered the selected items, closed the drawer, and returned to her seat. After shaking a sampling of piperóriza and dyosmos into the mortar, she ground the green and brown powders together.

  "Take care not to over-add," the old man remarked, his eyes occasionally flicking open to observe her work. Kohtalo nodded her understanding, setting the pestle down as she slowly added the Glykóriza.

  Once satisfied with the mixture, Kohtalo opened a jar and carefully poured honey into the mortar. She stirred the contents thoroughly, ensuring the mixture was uniform, before transferring it into a bowl.

  Kohtalo carried the bowl to the man, her movements slow and deliberate to avoid spilling the mixture. She set it down before the man and then returned to her cushion.

  The old man dipped a finger into the sticky mixture and tasted it, his expression thoughtful. “Hmmm,” he murmured, letting the mixture coat his throat. “It’s good. Set it aside—Kipu will come to collect it.” He handed the bowl back to Kohtalo, wiping the remnants of the paste from his fingers. “On to the next. The patient is twenty cycles old. The same considerations apply, but make it much stronger than normal—”

  Suddenly, his words trailed off. His gaze became unfocused, his eyes glossing over.

  Noticing his silence, Kohtalo slowly turned to him, careful of the bowl in her hand. "Elder?"

  The Elder's eyelids shut before reopening moments later, focused and alert. "The men have left the forest."

  Kohtalo set the bowl on the shelf. "Oh, really?" she said, her tone distant, her gaze wandering toward the room's entrance.

  The Elder stretched his left arm out, grasping faintly at the air. “The hunt appears successful,” he murmured. His hand fell to his side, his lips curling into a low chuckle. “Kohtalo, the Hunt Master didn’t fail us. They hunted down an elafiotéras.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Kohtalo whipped around to face the Elder, her pale cheeks flushed. “That’s incredible! We’ll have enough marrow to last seven more cycles.”

  The Elder squinted, his eyes glazing over once more. “Go to the drawer,” he instructed, his brows bunching. “Think carefully about what you’ll use in the mixture. Come to me once you’ve decided.”

  The Elder closed his eyes, his thoughts racing as Kohtalo began her work.

  Kipu, come.

  A young man stood dazed in a field of golden crops, their dandelion hue vivid against the arid desert backdrop. He wore a white robe and a scarf-like fabric wrapped around his head, secured by a black band. Shaking his head, he tried to push the intrusive thought from his mind.

  "Kipu, are you ok?"

  A woman approached from his left, a stone hoe in her hand. Carefully parting the plants, her gaze softened with concern as she neared him.

  "Yeah," Kipu responded with a sharp nod. He squatted and grasped for a hoe he had dropped, attempting a bright smile as he straightened. "Just lost focus for a moment."

  "Are you sure?" she asked, raising a hand to his forehead.

  "Like I said, Jol—yes, I am," Kipu replied, stepping away from her reach. He slowly backed through the crops, his steps deliberate through the crops. "Anyway, I need to go. The Elder summoned me," he added, turning abruptly and striding away.

  Jol's face tightened with worry. "Do you need me to come with you?"

  "No," Kipu called over his shoulder, quickening his pace. "I can manage on my own." He weaved through the plants, edging closer to the field’s edge. Breaking free of the crops, he squinted, scanning the horizon.

  The landscape stretched endlessly before him—rolling dunes and vast expanses of sand, painted in monotonous shades of brown. Pulling down his scarf to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare, he turned left and pushed forward, keeping the field within sight.

  A short while later, the sound of running water reached his ears. Kipu raised his head and looked ahead. A stream cut through the desert's desolation, its waters shimmering against the barren landscape. Beyond the stream, a scattering of buildings stood, their dark brown color blending with the surroundings, making them nearly invisible. A bridge stretched across the stream, connecting both sides.

  Kipu trudged the remaining distance and stepped onto the rope bridge. He crossed quickly to the other side and headed toward the nearest structure. The sun-baked building had dark brown walls, their rough, uneven surface marked by cracks and faint handprints pressed into the bricks. A leather covering hung over the entrance, serving as a shield against the elements.

  Reaching the covering, Kipu pulled it aside and stepped into the building. With no windows to admit light, darkness enveloped him, save for the faint glow seeping through the gap beneath the entrance. His gaze swept the mud-brick walls, which held shelves laden with tools and assorted items.

  He exited the building after storing the hoe and walked deeper into the settlement, passing several structures of similar design. Despite the distance he had covered, Kipu hadn’t encountered another living soul. That changed as he approached a large building—nearly triple the size of the others—where the sounds of squeals and laughter reached his ears.

  “Gyu, stop running! Qio, let go of Brie’s hair! Children, settle down!”

  A faint smile crossed Kipu’s face as he neared the building’s entrance.

  Suddenly, the leather curtain jerked aside, and a small figure hurtled out, nearly bowling Kipu over.

  Kipu instinctively caught the child, his arms wrapping around him as he took a steadying step back. Holding the squirming figure at arm’s length, he squinted down. “Gyu. I should have known.”

  The boy grinned up at him, a gap in his teeth showing. “Kipu! You’re back!” He lunged forward again, burying his face in Kipu’s robe.

  The leather covering once again flew open, and a disheveled woman rushed out. “Children, stay still! I need to find Gyu—oh, Kipu. Gyu, there you are!”

  Gyu darted behind Kipu, using him as a convenient shield.

  The woman groaned in frustration. She raised her head and turned pleading eyes toward Kipu.

  Kipu sighed, reaching behind to grab Gyu by the arm and pulling him forward.

  The boy squealed, squirming in protest. "Kipu, you traitor!"

  The woman shook her head in mild disapproval and gently took Gyu’s hand. "Gyu, don’t say that. It’s not respectful." She bent down and whispered into his ear, "Calm down, and I’ll tell you one of my stories later."

  Gyu’s struggles subsided. His gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Which one?"

  She flicked his ear with a playful smirk. "Oh, perhaps your favorite—The Mortal and the Monster."

  Instantly, the child's protests ceased, and he became more compliant.

  The woman’s tense expression eased as she lightly turned him toward the entrance. "Now go inside. I’ll be right behind you."

  With a quick nod, Gyu rushed into the building.

  She let out a long sigh of relief once he disappeared. "Kipu, I love kids, but I’m at my limit. I don’t know how long I can fight off sleep."

  Kipu gave her a sympathetic glance, patting her lightly on the back. "Just hold out a little longer, Maxi. The others will be done in the field soon. You’ll get a break then."

  Straightening her posture, she patted her robe and hair, trying to regain composure. "Anyway, where were you heading? Shouldn’t you still be with them?"

  "I was summoned," Kipu said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Do you have any water?"

  Maxi’s hand moved to her waist, her expression apologetic. "I think so... but I left my pouch inside. Wait here." She disappeared into the building and returned moments later, holding a large leather pouch. "Here you go."

  Kipu raised the pouch and drank deeply, the cool water soothing his parched throat. Once satisfied, he returned it and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  Maxi smiled softly, holding the entrance covering open. "When you get back, will you return to the field?"

  Kipu shrugged. "Depends on what the Elder wants."

  "Well, if you’re free, could you help me?"

  He turned to leave, his voice trailing over his shoulder. "When I return."

  Maxi momentarily watched him before slipping back inside, greeted by the children’s excited cries.

  As Kipu rounded the building, he pulled off his scarf, revealing damp blonde hair clinging to his skin. The settlement ended here; no more buildings lay ahead. He squinted against a sudden gust of wind, raising a hand to shield his face. Finding shade by the wall, he crouched, letting his hair fall around his face.

  "Ok children, settle down."

  Kipu glanced up at a small window, the children's giggles and shuffles drifting out from within.

  "Quiet down, let me begin," Maxi continued, her tone light and calm.

  Kipu leaned against the wall, his gaze drifting to the dunes beyond.

  Maxi’s voice softened, her words flowing through the window. "The Mortal and the Monster. A tale of two from different worlds, separated by fate, yet united by love."

  Kipu exhaled deeply, rose to his feet, and adjusted his scarf. He cast a fleeting glance at the window. The story would have to wait; he had somewhere else to be.

  Kipu pulled his scarf up against the dusty wind and stepped into the desert, his strides measured as the wind swirled the sand around him.