Hiroshi had one task: deliver Soma to Cheri Town. It was a simple twenty-mile trek, but one portion of the journey was through a narrow bit of land between two mountains.

The real problem? An assassin wanted Soma dead.

And it wasn’t just any assassin. It was the infamous Wraith of the Bake-Kujira Clan. Little was known of Wraith other than he was a master ninja who effortlessly cut down anyone in his path. He had never been caught, and because no one had seen him and lived to tell the tale, no one was entirely certain of what he looked like.

Hiroshi didn’t even know how old he was—or even if Wraith was a he—but Hiroshi did know what kind of magics Wraith would wield. Each clan descended from a mythical god-beast, and the beast’s magics determined what the clan’s ninjas would wield.

The Chollima Clan descended from the pegasus, so their magic gave them control over the invisible tether that held things to the ground, gravity. That was how the winged horse flew, not through aerodynamics.

Wraith was of the Bake-Kujira Clan, descended from the lich whale, which gave them access to the magic of entropy. Low-ranked ninjas of the Bake-Kujira could rot almost anything with a touch of their fingers, spreading decay that could cripple within moments.

Which made Wraith a formidable foe. He wielded death, after all.

But Hiroshi refused to be defeated. He would make certain Soma arrived safely to Cheri Town, no matter the danger.

Hiroshi had a plan, after all.

He would personally walk alongside Soma from the Jade Gate all the way to Cheri Town. Since Hiroshi was a ninja of the Kame Clan—the clan descended from the atlas turtle—his magics were highly defensive in nature. Hiroshi planned to stay close to Soma at all times, to ensure his safety.

But Hiroshi was hardly the only line of defense. No, he had thought far beyond that. He would have three rings of defense that surrounded Soma at all times.

The first ring, the largest and one farthest out, would be made of twelve scouts. These ninjas would constantly circle, searching every shadow and bush for signs of Wraith of the Bake-Kujira Clan.

The second ring, the one in the middle, would be made of eight mercenaries. They were of the Kin Clan. They were descendants of the pulgasari—the metal-eating tiger whose roar could bend iron and whose hunger grew with every mouthful of gold. Their magics allowed them to mold metal, and they used that molding in all sorts of interesting ways.

They would carry chains and rattle them as they traveled, along with smacking any trees or shrubs or anything suspicious. If Wraith were hiding along the trail as something innocuous, they would sniff him out. And the noise would prevent Wraith from hearing Soma or Hiroshi, giving them a sort of audible protection.

They would also use their swords to cut down any and all branches that were overhead, removing the option for Wraith to lie in wait from above. And once they made it to the narrow stretch of road between two mountains, the mercenaries would mold their metal to create an umbrella shield that would defend them from anything that would fall, including boulders.

The third ring, the one closest to Soma, would be made up of six poison experts. They would be the final line of defense, each one carrying daggers coated in basilisk venom, some of the deadliest in the world.

Even if Wraith evaded the scouts and bypassed the mercenaries, he would have to deal with highly trained combat apothecaries who could stab an assassin and kill them in an instant.

Hiroshi had thought of everything. Wraith couldn’t hide, or sneak up close, or come down from the sky. While he was a legendary assassin, he was still a human, and a man couldn’t overcome Hiroshi’s defenses.

So, when they left the Jade Gate, Hiroshi was confident. He wouldn’t allow hubris to defeat him, though, so he kept close to Soma, one of his hands on the man’s shoulder at all times.

They left late in the morning, while the sun was overhead, giving them a decent amount of light. Wraith wouldn’t have the luxury of shadows. No. They would travel with the daylight, protected by the warm beams as they went.

Two hours in, and everything was perfect. The scouts reported nothing, and the mercenaries practically tore up the landscape as they went. No one saw any signs of an assassin. That was when paranoia set in.

Hiroshi caught himself reaching for his sword at multiple points. When the pink cherry blossoms fell, he whirled around on his heel, eyes wide. When the babbling of a distant river was interrupted by the splash of an excited fish, Hiroshi nearly leapt from his skin. Every noise and slight movement kept his heart beating fast and made his breath catch in his throat.

Another two hours, and they were more than halfway to their destination. Several merchant carts had been on the road, but the scouts and mercenaries had cleared them away, keeping everyone far from Soma.

“Not much longer now,” Soma said as they passed the splintered remains of an axle. “Hopefully your sellswords don’t ruin any other merchandise before we reach Cheri Town.”

“This is just a precaution,” Hiroshi muttered.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t travel in a carriage. It would’ve been faster.”

If Hiroshi had ridden in a carriage, he wouldn’t be able to see his surroundings. And even if he were on top of a carriage, glancing around, someone could slip into it and then he wouldn’t be able to see them.

No. No vehicles. Hiroshi wouldn’t take his eyes off Soma for any reason.

“Are your feet hurting?” Hiroshi asked.

The rattling of the chains echoed between far-off trees as the mercenaries continued smacking and knocking things around.

“I’m fine,” Soma replied. “As a priest, I travel between the Heaven’s Beast Temples frequently.”

Hiroshi hadn’t asked why Wraith wanted this priest dead. He didn’t care. He had a job, and that was to ensure Soma lived, nothing more and nothing less.

When they finally arrived at the narrow road between mountains, everyone grew tense, including Soma. He had been confident before—almost dismissive of all Hiroshi’s precautions—but now he seemed worried. He glanced over his shoulders and even walked closer to Hiroshi.

Just one more hour and they would arrive in Cheri Town.

The sun was on its downward trek, but there was still plenty of daylight. The shadows on the road were thin ones. No one could hide in those.

The first ring of defense collapsed on them to travel along the road. The scouts reported nothing.

When it came to the second ring, they pulled back. The metal-molding ninjas of the Kin Clan made a steel shield that fit over them. They crafted it from their armor, and kept their weapons intact, just in case. They also made several long poles to carry the shield, and should anything heavy slam down on top, it was large enough—and the poles long enough—that they would have plenty of space underneath. They wouldn’t be squished.

The combat apothecaries hurried under the shield, so as a team of sixteen people, they stayed huddled close together as they traveled.

Each step forward was done in silence. No one spoke. No one even coughed or sneezed. Hiroshi kept his eyes on the road ahead while the mercenaries kept their attention on the rear.

So far, no signs of Wraith.

Had Hiroshi’s information been wrong? Or had his planning been so thorough, so thought through, that Wraith had given up?

His sandals scraped along the ground as he shuffled his feet, his gaze straight ahead.

“We should move faster,” Soma whispered. “The sun won’t stay in the sky forever.”

Haste invited mistakes. Hiroshi would not allow mistakes. He tightened his grip on Soma’s shoulder.

“We continue at this pace. We don’t break formation. Do you understand?”

Soma sighed and then wiped the sweat from his brow. “In this sea of bodies, I doubt anyone could reach me. And their breaths are hot. Surely we can move just a tad faster? Before I pass out from exhaustion?”

“You’ll be fine,” Hiroshi growled.

And he would. Hiroshi would make sure of it.

He would not fail.

They continued at their sluggish pace, inch by inch, step by step. Soon, they would be out of the narrow path, and they would be a few minutes out of Cheri Town. Everything had gone perfectly to plan.

As Hiroshi stepped down, his foot gave out from under him. He stumbled, confused, and collided with the apothecary in front of him. That man hit the next, and there was a shout of surprise, followed by an angry yell.

Without warning, a man dressed all in black silk exploded up from the ground. He had been hidden in a hole in the pathway, carved from the dirt and stone by entropy magic. He had been hiding, lying in wait, like a trapdoor spider, until his target had been right above him.

Wraith.

The master ninja didn’t attack or strike wildly. No. He went straight for Soma. In one brutal slash of his dagger, he slit Soma’s throat, and rot spread from the injury, destroying the man’s neck in a matter of moments.

Soma stumbled into the next man, clawing at his injury.

When Hiroshi finally managed to get his footing, he realized . . .

He had already failed his mission. Soma was . . . dead.

With strength and dexterity befitting a monster, Wraith slammed his way out of the group, leapt on top of the metal shield, and then fled up the side of the mountain, running up the steep incline like only a trained ninja could.

In less than a minute, all of Hiroshi’s planning had been undone. His rings of defense had been nothing . . .

Not against Wraith of the Bake-Kujira.

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Copyright © 2026 by Shami Stovall

Shami Stovall is a multi-award-winning author of fantasy and science fiction, best known for her Chronos Chronicles, starting with Time Marked Warlock, and her Frith Chronicles series. Before she was author, Stovall taught history and criminal law at the college level, and loved every second.

When she’s not reading fascinating articles and books about ancient China or the Byzantine Empire, Stovall can be found playing way too many video games, especially RPGs and tactics simulators, or hanging with John 3 and John 4.