Ash woke to the smell of bitter herbs and the realization that sleeping on a wooden examination table did nothing positive for one's spinal alignment.

Morning light filtered through the shuttered windows in dusty shafts, illuminating particles of something—probably ground medicinal plants—floating in the air. Her body had downgraded from "everything hurts" to "most things hurt with notable exceptions," which qualified as improvement.

She sat up slowly, testing each movement. Ribs: still tender but manageable. Head: only mild throbbing instead of the previous percussion ensemble. Legs: functional if unsteady.

Powers: she reached for her flame without much hope.

A small wisp of fire materialized above her palm, orange-red and flickering uncertainly. It lasted perhaps five seconds before exhausting whatever limited reservoir she was working with. Still pathetic, but marginally less pathetic than yesterday.

Progress, technically speaking.

The door slid open and Physician Wen entered carrying a tray with steaming bowl and cup. "Good. You're awake and not dead. Excellent efficiency."

"Your bedside manner needs work."

"My bedside manner kept you alive through the night without incident. Eat." She set the tray on a nearby stool within Ash's reach. "Rice porridge and medicinal tea. The porridge will help rebuild your strength, the tea will help with residual inflammation."

Ash picked up the bowl. The porridge was bland but warm, and her stomach accepted it without complaint. The tea tasted like someone had distilled the concept of bitterness into liquid form, but she drank it anyway.

"Better," Physician Wen pronounced, observing. "You've some color back. Sect Leader Quan will want to see you after morning meditation. I'll escort you when you're ready."

After morning meditation. That established this place operated on a schedule with designated periods for spiritual practice, which aligned with her preliminary assessment of a community focused on some kind of internal development.

"Your color is improved. No signs of internal complications. How's your breathing?"

"Functional."

"Pain level?"

"Tolerable."

"Dizziness?"

"Minimal."

Physician Wen nodded, satisfied. "Then you're well enough for Sect Leader Quan to continue interrogating you properly. He'll be here shortly."

"Looking forward to it."

"Sarcasm won't help your case."

"Wasn't being sarcastic." Ash finished the porridge. "He seems reasonable. I appreciate reasonable interrogators."

"Hmm." The physician collected the empty bowl. "You're an odd one. Most people in your situation would be more concerned about their circumstances."

"I am concerned. I'm just not panicking. There's a difference."

"Fair distinction." Physician Wen moved toward the door, then paused. "For what it's worth, child, I don't think you're dangerous. Dangerous people don't usually collapse on mountain paths and accept help without scheming. They especially don't make bad jokes with their physicians."

"Those weren't jokes."

"Exactly." The door slid shut behind her.

Ash sat in the quiet infirmary, cataloging what she knew: she was in the Mistpeak Mountains, in Silvercloud Sect territory, which was apparently experiencing resource problems. The sect specialized in something, had some kind of tournament coming up, and there was mention of someone's grandfather, who probably meant Sect Leader Quan.

Also, something about cultivation and her meridians being blocked, which was probably related to her power loss.

Limited information, but enough to start building a framework. She just needed more data points.

The door opened again. Sect Leader Quan entered, followed by a younger man Ash hadn't seen before—early twenties, well-built, wearing robes that were significantly better maintained than most she'd seen. He carried himself with confidence, hands resting near the sword at his belt.

The newcomer sized Ash up with open curiosity and assessment. He wasn't hostile, just... evaluative. Testing.

"Ash." Quan took a seat across from her without invitation. "Sleep well?"

"Good morning," Quan said, settling onto the stool Physician Wen had vacated. "I trust you slept adequately?"

"I've had worse sleeping arrangements."

"I imagine so, given your dramatic arrival." He gestured to his companion. "This is my grandson, Chen Rong. He's the sect's heir and current... well, our most advanced disciple."

Chen Rong bowed slightly, hands clasped at his waist. His assessment of her continued, unspoken but clear. "Welcome to Silvercloud Sect."

"Thanks for not leaving me on the mountain."

"That would have been discourteous."

Quan folded his hands in his lap. "Now then. Yesterday you told my disciples you were separated from your family by magical accident. I'd like to hear more about that, if you're willing to elaborate."

Ash weighed her options. The truth was complicated and would raise more questions than it answered. But lies were difficult to maintain, and she was already dealing with enough variables.

"I'm from Eldoria," she started. "Different region than this one, I think. My sisters and I were... involved in a situation involving magical artifacts. Something went wrong, there was an energy discharge, and we were separated. I woke up in the bamboo forest with no memory of transit and no way to contact them."

"Eldoria? Hmm, you're far away then, beyond the Great Dragon's Spine to the west. Very far." Chen Rong's gaze sharpened. "What sort of 'artifacts' would have enough power to throw you this distance? And without even a trace?"

Now for the difficult part. "It's... complicated. We're not standard practitioners, if that's what you're thinking."

The two men exchanged a glance. Chen Rong looked thoughtful; Quan, concerned.

"Magical artifacts tend to be unpredictable," Quan observed. "What kind of situation required multiple artifacts?"

"The kind where stopping a problem created different problems."

"That's deliberately vague."

"Yes."

"You expect us to accept that without explanation?" Chen Rong pressed.

"I expect you to recognize that someone in my position, injured, alone, and far from home, might have legitimate reasons for withholding details."

"Fair point," Quan acknowledged, though his expression remained unconvinced. "Let's approach this differently. Are you a cultivator?"

"No. I expect you to decide whether the vagueness is acceptable given that I'm currently injured, powerless, and dependent on your sect's hospitality. If you want detailed explanations about magical theory and artifact interaction, I can provide them, but they won't change my immediate situation or make me less of whatever risk you think I represent."

Silence stretched. Chen Rong looked like he wanted to argue. Quan just studied her, then nodded slowly.

"You're calm for someone in your circumstances. That suggests either you're lying about everything and are actually here as some kind of advanced operative, or you're genuinely comfortable with uncertainty and focused on practical solutions rather than emotional reactions." He leaned back slightly. "Your demeanor reminds me of a philosopher I met years ago who'd accepted mortality so thoroughly that nothing surprised him anymore."

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"I've spent considerable time contemplating existential dread. It tends to clarify one's priorities."

Chen Rong frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm not going to panic about current circumstances. I'm going to recover, gather information, and find my way back to my sisters. Whether I do that as a guest of the Silvercloud Sect or after leaving your territory depends largely on how our conversation proceeds."

Quan's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile if he'd allowed it to fully develop. "Fair enough. You're direct, at least. Physician Wen mentioned you attempted to produce flame yesterday and couldn't."

"I can produce flame. Just not much of it, and not for long." Ash demonstrated, creating a small flicker that died quickly. "There's energy somewhere inside me, but accessing it is like trying to draw water from a well with the rope too short to reach the bottom."

"And you mentioned blocked meridians to Physician Wen."

"She mentioned blocked meridians. I had no context for what that meant."

Quan's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're not a cultivator?"

"I don't know what that is."

The sect leader and his grandson exchanged glances. This clearly wasn't the answer they'd expected.

"I see," Quan said finally. "That explains a great deal about your demeanor. We operate on entirely different frameworks."

"Then explain yours."

"To simplify," Quan said, "cultivation is the practice of refining one's own internal energy—called qi or sometimes spirit energy—through meditation, specialized breathing techniques, and movement forms. The goal is to purify this energy and channel it through pathways in the body called meridians, eventually achieving greater levels of personal power, extended lifespan, and in some cases, profound insights into the nature of reality."

"Internal alchemy," Ash said, processing the information.

"A crude but not entirely inaccurate description. Your inability to properly manifest your inner flame suggests your meridian system suffered damage during your magical accident. Like any other bodily system, it can be bruised, blocked, or ruptured."

"So if I can unblock these meridians, I could regain my powers?"

"Possibly. The connection isn't guaranteed, but it's plausible. Your fire could be a specific manifestation of what we would call elemental affinity, and proper circulation would amplify it."

"And how does one unblock meridians?"

"Several methods: external energy manipulation by skilled healers, acupuncture, specific internal circulation techniques, or breakthrough events where one's energy force overwhelms blockages naturally."

Chen Rong stepped forward, his earlier skepticism replaced with interest. "May I examine you? I'm trained in sensing qi flow."

Ash studied him, weighing risks versus benefits. Information was necessary for planning, and this was information about her own body. "Go ahead."

Chen Rong placed fingers lightly on her wrist, eyes closing in concentration. After a minute, he stepped back, frowning.

"I can sense some energy potential, but it's... inconsistent. Like trying to feel the flow in a riverbed that's alternately blocked and flooding in different sections. The patterns are unlike any damaged meridians I've observed."

"So?"

"So healing techniques might not work without causing further damage. The energy buildup could rupture pathways permanently." He looked at Quan. "Grandfather, this is unusual."

"Indeed."

Quan turned back to Ash. "I'll be direct. Our sect faces significant challenges. We are one of the oldest establishments in these mountains, but our fortunes have waned. Our resources are limited. We have few true masters left, and those we have are stretched thin maintaining what remains."

"Why?"

"The world changes," Quan said simply. "The value placed on our particular approach to cultivation has diminished. Younger practitioners seek faster paths, more immediate results. Sects with different methodologies flourish while we decline."

"And the Gathering mentioned?"

Chen Rong answered, voice tinged with concern. "Every three years, the major sects gather at Azure Reach Peak to demonstrate their techniques, negotiate alliances, and, most importantly, establish their standing in the regional hierarchy. For the past several gatherings, Silvercloud has performed poorly. Another poor showing this year could result in sanctions, resource allocations diverted to more successful sects, or pressure to merge with a larger organization."

"They'll absorb us," Quan added, "which effectively means our traditions disappear, and our members either assimilate or leave to find new paths."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You possess unusual abilities, even in their current diminished state," Quan said. "A demonstration of unique techniques, properly presented at the Gathering, could establish our value again. It would demonstrate that the old ways still produce unique results worthy of preservation."

"You want to use me to save your sect."

"We want to offer you a trade," Quan corrected. "Help us regain standing at the Gathering. In return, we'll dedicate resources to helping you restore your abilities and find your way home."

Ash considered the proposal. The logical parts of her brain calculated variables: she needed information about this region, assistance restoring her powers, and a safe base while planning to find her sister-selves. They needed a demonstration at some kind of tournament to preserve their organization.

The proposal had mutually beneficial elements, assuming both parties honored their agreements. Assuming her abilities could actually be restored in this framework. Assuming "help" translated to practical assistance rather than vague promises.

"My power originates from outside your paradigm," she observed. "Even restored, it might not integrate well with your cultivation techniques. Would it still serve your purpose at this Gathering?"

"Unconventional power still demonstrates value if it's impressive and controllable," Chen Rong pointed out. "Only bloodline cultivators, beast cultivators, or those with spiritual roots could match a natural elemental affinity like yours. The very fact that your power system differs from standard qi manipulation makes you a novelty worth acknowledging."

"You're treating me like a strategic asset rather than a person."

"I'm treating you like someone with extraordinary circumstances who arrived at our sect at precisely the moment we face a crisis," Quan countered. "If that seems calculating, it's because we're fighting for survival. The philosophical approach you admire in your demeanor only thrives when basic needs are met."

Fair. Logic couldn't be refuted simply because it was inconvenient.

"And if I say no?"

Quan considered. "We'd still provide basic medical assistance until you're recovered enough to travel. We wouldn't turn you out in your current condition, but we couldn't spare advanced resources for your meridian repair or information assistance. Your recovery would be... prolonged."

Which meant months of healing alone and weak in an unfamiliar region. Not ideal.

"And if I say yes?"

"Immediate access to the sect's archives, training facilities, and whatever medicinal resources we can spare for your recovery. Chen Rong will work with you personally to diagnose and potentially repair your energy pathways."

Chen Rong added, "I'll also assist with basic combat training and help you understand regional customs, political dynamics, and practical details you'll need if you're traveling independently."

It wasn't a bad offer, as dangerous proposals went. "What happens after the Gathering?"

"We renegotiate based on outcomes. If your participation helps preserve the sect's standing, we increase our investment in your recovery and search efforts. If not..." Quan spread his hands. "We part ways, and we'll provide reasonable compensation for your time."

"A reasonable framework," Ash acknowledged. "I want specific terms spelled out in writing."

Quan actually smiled this time, thin-lipped but genuine. "I should have expected you to request contractual terms. Physician Wen did say you were practical."

"Specific terms provide clarity and prevent misunderstandings."

"Fair enough. We'll draft an agreement for your review this evening."

"That's acceptable."

"Excellent." Quan stood, Chen Rong following his lead. "Lin Mei will bring you to a guest chamber where you can rest properly. We'll begin tomorrow with a more thorough assessment of your condition and our archive resources."

"You seem confident I'll accept."

"You value systematic approaches to problem-solving," Quan said. "We've offered a system. You're currently a problem without a solution. The logical choice is clear."

Left unsaid was that rejecting the offer created different, less favorable problems.

Ash nodded slowly. "I'll need paper and writing implements as well. If I'm going to contribute strategic analysis, I need to document my thinking."

"Included," Quan assured her before departing with his grandson.

Lin Mei appeared as if summoned—which, considering the sect's apparent organization, wasn't impossible—with a bundle of clothing under one arm. "Guest accommodations! They're not fancy, but they're clean and private. And I brought you some spare robes. Mine, mostly, so they might be a bit large, but they're better than what you're wearing, which is practically in rags."

The assessment was accurate. Ash followed her out of the infirmary, testing her legs with each step. They held, though she leaned occasionally on walls for balance.

The guest chamber was small but adequate. A sleeping mat, simple table, window overlooking an inner courtyard, and a privacy screen. Functional. Sufficient.

"Rest here," Lin Mei advised. "I'll bring food and writing supplies shortly. Then tomorrow, proper assessment!" Her enthusiasm was almost cheerful. "It's exciting, isn't it? The sect needs a breakthrough, and you might be it!"

Or a disaster, depending on variables. Ash kept that thought to herself. "Perhaps."

Lin Mei departed, leaving Ash alone to process recent developments. A contract was logical, but only if the sect maintained the power and integrity to honor its terms. Given their resource struggles, that wasn't guaranteed.

But she had options: heal slowly without assistance, or accept their proposition. Calculating odds suggested the latter provided better outcomes with manageable risks.

Paper and ink arrived minutes later, along with another bowl of rice porridge and medicinal tea that tasted even worse than yesterday's. Lin Mei left promising to return at dawn to guide her to morning meditation—apparently even guests participated.

Ash ate mechanically while analyzing the situation.

Her current status: compromised physical capabilities, severely diminished powers, no regional knowledge, and no resources.

The sect's status: struggling organization facing potential dissolution, but with established systems, archive resources, and personnel familiar with regional dynamics.

The offer: trade demonstration of unique abilities for support in recovery and search efforts.

Logical conclusion: proceed with caution while maximizing benefits.

She spent an hour drafting contractual terms, focusing on measurable deliverables: specific quantities of medicinal resources, guaranteed access to sect archives, defined recovery assessment parameters, and explicit provisions for search assistance regardless of the Gathering's outcome.

After finishing, she lay on the sleeping mat, attempting to meditate as Physician Wen had suggested. The effort revealed another truth—her inner world was as disrupted as her outer world.

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