Since they’d come to Heaven’s Glory, he had allowed her to interact with the Valley natives only at his side, and only while veiled as an Iron. He was thinking of relaxing that restriction soon.

For one thing, the spiritual perception of the Jades here was pathetic. He could barely call them Jades at all. They would never be able to see through her veil, so she could hide easily.

More importantly, while he had initially expected the elders to try to get to him through Yerin, none had. Not one had attempted anything.

They knew his apprentice was here in the house, and that he took her out sometimes to fight Remnants or train against Irons, but they had shown no interest in her. They hadn’t asked her so much as her name. It was bizarre.

Over these last weeks, he had come to figure out that it came down to the strange, twisted view they had of honor. None of them wanted the Sword Sage to think they were interested in a lowly apprentice for any reason, because that would…lower their standards in his eyes, for some reason?

He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t here for cultural research. If the Jades thought Yerin was beneath them, so much the better. No one would discover their reason for being here and Yerin would be that much safer.

Not that any of these half-baked Jades could touch Yerin’s shadow. Every cut on her skin and the edges of her robe was from her own Endless Sword; the only threats to Yerin in Sacred Valley were contained in her own body.

At the thought, he focused his perception on her uninvited guest.

The Blood Shadow was bound into a rope and tied around her waist like a belt, making a wide bow behind her. Ordinarily it should be stirring, restless, trying to tempt her into relying on its power or waiting for a gap in her control to feed on blood essence.

He felt almost nothing from it now. It was sleeping to conserve power, held down by the same curse as the rest of the Valley. As long as she stayed here, she wouldn’t be bothered by the parasite sleeping in her soul.

For that reason, this was the safest place in the world for Yerin.

The puppet-construct’s motions jumbled for a second as the wills of its various Remnant parts clashed, and Yerin took advantage.

Two motions, and she separated its head from its neck and one arm from its shoulder.

Silver sparks sprayed into the air like blood, and the nested scripts at the center of the puppet registered the damage as a defeat. The construct powered down, curling in on itself like a dying spider, preserving energy so that the Sword Sage wouldn’t have to spend so much effort rebuilding it later.

Yerin shone like a lamp uncovered. She turned to him, beaming but trying to hide it.

“Cleanest win so far,” she said, staying casual. “Smoother than butter.” She dispersed the Flowing Sword and slid her weapon back into its sheath.

Adama gave her some lazy applause. “Cheers and celebration for you.” He was proud of how far she’d come, but flowery praise wasn’t his way.

Still, Yerin drew herself up like he’d handed her a crown. She thumbed a line of blood running down her cheek. “Seems to me like I can walk around by myself now.”

He started to brush her off as he had before, but he cut himself off and turned the idea over in his mind. What would the right lesson be?

She didn’t know anything about Sacred Valley’s nature, or its history, or the years of research he’d done to find his way here.

She certainly didn’t know why they’d really come.

The “curse” of Sacred Valley wasn’t any kind of curse at all. It was perhaps the largest and most elaborate script formation ever created by mankind, spanning hundreds of miles and buried deep within the earth.

That formation generated a suppression field that weakened everything that crossed its boundaries. At first, he had believed it was a security measure to keep Monarchs out.

Now, he was growing certain that it was primarily intended to keep the labyrinth’s lone inhabitant starving.

The father of the Dreadgods.

Subject One.

He was here to find a cure for Yerin…but not just a cure. He wanted a way to separate the Blood Shadow from her with no spiritual damage at all.

That was a degree of magnitude more difficult than just removing it, but he couldn’t risk any damage to his apprentice.

This was the birthplace of the Bleeding Phoenix, and he had filled his void space with enough ancient research notes and experimental materials that he was sure he was closing in on an answer.

He was becoming certain that he could do it. There was a way to pull the Blood Shadow out of her without taking a chunk of her soul with it. He only needed a few more weeks. With the suppression field working on her parasite, they had plenty of time.

However, he couldn’t keep her sealed in a jar. If he stifled her growth, that would defeat the entire point of this project.

“You’ve got me,” he said at last. “Your chains are off.”

She gave him a fierce grin. “You going to burn my ear if I draw swords on some Jade?”

“All right, then, not all your chains.”

Her face fell.

“Keep your Iron veil on tight and your perception to yourself. Don’t tell them anything but your name. And don’t eat anything they give you.”

Instantly she turned suspicious. “Master, did they try to poison you?”

“Did more than try,” he said, patting his stomach.

Yerin’s knuckles whitened on the hilt of her sword.

“Whoa there, rein it in. Do I look shaky to you?”

She looked him up and down and her grip tightened. Her eyebrows drew together, and his spirit shivered slightly as she moved her perception through him.

“You look like you’ve been dragged over ten miles of rocky road,” she replied.

He waved his hand through the air. “Bad question. That’s my own training, not them.”

She still didn’t look convinced, so he sighed and reached into his outer robe.

He withdrew a gold badge that he’d commissioned. Like his own, this one was carved with the emblem of a sword.

The tradition of wearing badges was old, its meaning shifting with time and culture. This may have been the only place in the world that still respected it, though they had the significance all wrong.

Yerin gave a half-step forward as she saw the badge, as though ready to take it, but he pulled it back.

“Keep your eyes on your Path,” he said gently. “You’re almost there.”

They’d have to leave Sacred Valley to find a sword Remnant worthy of her. He could push her to Lowgold with his own scales, but that missed the valuable opportunity to learn from the experiences of another sword artist.

Not to mention that separating her from the Blood Shadow would only become harder and harder as she advanced. As long as she stayed Jade, he was confident he could find the answer.

“Only a few more weeks,” he promised, and she relaxed.

“I’ll hang on,” she muttered.

“Good work.” He ruffled her hair, which she tolerated. Then he gave an exaggerated yawn.

Halfway through, he realized it wasn’t so exaggerated after all. He was more exhausted than he’d thought.

“Gonna go cultivate dream aura until dawn. You should rest up too.”

She gave him an absent nod, but she was looking over the training puppet as though hoping it would come back to life on its own.