They had been riding for the third day now. It seemed they were lost. The forest had long since ended, giving way to rolling grassy steppes where the wind roamed freely and the horizon dissolved into a shimmering haze. The road here was barely visible — an old caravan trail long abandoned after the khanate had plunged into the chaos of rebellion.
Amanda sat straight in the saddle like a statue in her black armor. The red lenses of her helmet stared unblinking ahead. Torglin and Leo rode a little behind, their horses plodding wearily.
“Girl,” the dwarf called out after a long silence. “You’ve been sitting there like a monument for three days straight. Say something, or I’m starting to worry.”
The metallic voice came from under the helmet:
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“About the name.”
“You already have a name,” Torglin reminded her. “Morok. You came up with it yourself. It even sounds decent. Mysterious.”
“Morok is boring,” the voice from the helmet sounded thoughtful despite the metallic echo. “Too… soft. Morok could be mist. Morok could be doubt. I need something that makes the enemy’s blood run cold.”
“You’re saying Morok isn’t scary enough?” Leo smirked.
“Not scary enough. I want the name to work for me. I want them to hear it and feel fear even before they see the armor.”
“Well,” Torglin scratched his beard, “we dwarves have a few names up in the mountains… ‘Stone Death,’ ‘Bloody Axe’…”
“Too straightforward. I need something… elegant. Deadly, but with a hint of something more.”
“How about Reaper?” Leo suggested. “It sounds… well, like fate. It comes and takes you.”
“Reaper,” Amanda repeated the word, testing it. “Not bad. But too common. Every second mercenary calls himself Reaper or Executioner.”
“And you’re special,” the dwarf grunted. “What about Wrath of the Void? Herald of Darkness?”
“That sounds like the titles of cheap novels they sell at the market.”
“Well, aren’t you picky,” the dwarf grumbled. “Come up with it yourself if you’re so smart.”
Amanda fell silent. The steady thud of the horses’ hooves against the dry earth filled the air. The wind tugged at her black cloak, giving the rider an even more ominous appearance.
“I remembered a story,” she said at last. “In a distant land, far from here, there was a warrior. They called him… the Death Samurai. Not because he killed everyone in sight, but because wherever he appeared, death followed on its own. He was its harbinger.”
“Samurai?” Leo repeated. “Some kind of eastern word?”
“Yes. Something like a knight. But it’s not about the word. It’s about the meaning. He didn’t just kill — he decided fates. With a single movement.”
“And what was his name?” Torglin asked.
“Shin ei. It translates as ‘Deadly Shadow’.”
“Shin ei?” The dwarf rolled the word on his tongue. “Doesn’t sound like ours. Foreign.”
“The Sardar Khanate loves foreign names. They add mystery. I will be Shin ei. The Reaper. The one who brings death.”
“Shin ei, then,” Torglin nodded. “Fine by me. Just try not to forget what you’re called when we actually get there.”
“I won’t forget,” a hint of a smirk colored the metallic voice. “This name… I’ll remember it for a long time.”
The day was fading into evening when they crested yet another hill. Leo, riding ahead as scout, suddenly raised his hand sharply.
“Something’s happening up ahead,” he said quietly, peering into the distance.
Amanda rode up beside him. Down below, in a wide steppe hollow, a battle was raging.
A small group — no more than twenty — was fighting desperately against superior numbers. Their attackers outnumbered them three to one. From their clothing and weapons, Amanda recognized them as the Khan’s nomads — light cavalry with curved sabers and short, sturdy horses. They circled the defenders like wolves, striking again and again.
But those they had surrounded… were different.
“Look,” Leo whispered. “They have…”
Ears. And tails.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. They were not human — or not entirely human. Some had animal ears protruding from their heads — sharp like a wolf’s or rounded like a cat’s. Others had fluffy tails visible beneath their clothes. They fought with fierce, desperate, almost bestial grace, but the odds were overwhelmingly against them.
Torglin whistled softly.
“Beastfolk,” he said, genuine surprise in his voice. “Living, breathing ones. I thought they only existed in fairy tales now. In the mountains they said almost all of them were wiped out last century. The khanate hunted them like game.”
“They’re losing,” Leo gripped the hilt of his sword. “They’ll be slaughtered soon.”
Amanda watched the battlefield. Through the red lenses of her helmet, her eyes quickly assessed the situation. The beastfolk detachment was pinned against a rocky outcrop — a natural wall protecting their rear. In the center, shielding someone lying on the ground, fought a girl.
She was beautiful with a wild, inhuman beauty that made the heart beat faster. Long silver hair whipped in the wind, sharp wolf ears stood atop her head, and a fluffy tail of the same silver shade lashed behind her. Her sword moved like lightning — she slashed, dodged, slashed again, protecting an elderly man bleeding on the ground behind her.
But even her skill wasn’t enough. The nomads pressed from all sides. In another minute, they would break through.
“Plan,” Amanda’s voice from under the helmet turned to ice. “Leo, Torglin — put on your helmets. Disappear.”
They didn’t argue. In two swift motions, the dwarf and the young warrior pulled on their mithril-and-orichalcum helmets. The air around them shimmered. One moment — and they vanished, dissolving into the evening light, becoming invisible shadows.
“I’m going straight into the thick of it,” Amanda said, drawing her sword. The black blade, forged from the same mithril, swallowed the light instead of reflecting it. “You two follow my lead. When I swing my sword — you cut down whoever’s beside them. When I strike — you strike. Everyone must see that death comes from me. They mustn’t know there are two of you. I am the Reaper. I am Shin ei. I am alone.”
“And if someone survives and talks?” Leo’s invisible voice asked.
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“Let them talk. The more terrifying the legend, the faster it will reach Kaelen.”
She spurred her horse forward.
The black rider surged down the hill like a stone hurled from a sling. The cloak billowed behind her, red lenses blazing in the rays of the setting sun, the black sword thrust forward like a spear.
The nomads didn’t notice him at once. And when they did — it was already too late.
“SHIN EI!” The voice, distorted by the helmet, rolled across the battlefield like a thunderclap. “THE REAPER COMES!”
She slammed into the heart of the enemy like a lance. Horses shied away, nomads screamed as they tried to turn toward the new threat. But Amanda didn’t stop. Her sword traced a wide arc, and in that same instant two riders screamed and toppled from their saddles — Leo and Torglin’s invisible blades had done their work.
“DEATH!” Amanda roared, slashing through the air.
Three more fell. Blood sprayed onto the dry earth, yet none of the witnesses could understand how it had happened. They saw only the black figure, the swing of a sword — and death. Instant. Inevitable.
“Demon!” someone among the nomads shrieked. “It’s a demon!”
Amanda wheeled in the saddle, delivering strikes no one could parry. Her blade never touched the enemies — yet they fell. A sweep — and a throat was slit. A thrust — and steel sank into a back. She slashed, stabbed, and crushed while the two invisible warriors followed her every movement, doing all the dirty work.
The beastfolk watched with open mouths. The girl with silver hair froze for a moment, forgetting her own fight as she stared at the black rider mowing down enemies like a reaper harvesting wheat.
“Who is that?” someone from her squad breathed.
“I don’t know,” she replied, swinging her sword again. “But now is not the time to ask questions. Hold the line!”
Amanda moved like a machine. She didn’t think. She simply acted — slashing, dodging, slashing again — while Leo and Torglin, invisible and silent, followed her every gesture. She knew exactly where they were; she felt their presence like an extension of her own body.
The nomads faltered. They had numbers, but they had been fighting men. Here stood death itself — black, relentless, inhuman. It took no wounds. It never tired. Every swing of its sword claimed a life.
“Fall back!” the nomad commander shouted, and it was an order to retreat.
The remnants of the detachment wheeled their horses and fled, leaving behind a dozen bodies, spreading pools of blood, and the sharp stench of fear.
Amanda reined in her mount. Her black cloak slowly settled, like the wings of a great bird. The red lenses stared after the fleeing riders. The sword in her hand dripped blood, and the field around her was littered with the dead.
Amanda sheathed her sword. The red lenses stared across the battlefield as the nomads disappeared behind the hills, spurring their horses desperately. The air reeked of blood, sweat, and fear.
She turned her horse, preparing to ride away. She did it deliberately — to see what would happen.
“Stop.”
The voice behind her cracked like a whip. Amanda froze, but did not turn.
“You killed a dozen men in under a minute,” the voice drew closer. “You appeared out of nowhere. You called yourself the Reaper. And now you just want to ride off?”
Amanda slowly turned around.
The girl with silver hair stood five paces away. Her sword was sheathed, but her body was tense — ready to spring. Her wolf ears were flattened, her tail still. Amber eyes stared straight into the red lenses without fear — only challenge.
“I did what was necessary. My work here is done.”
“Your work?” She smirked, and there was something distinctly wolfish in that grin — a flash of fangs. “You’re no mercenary. Mercenaries don’t work for free. You didn’t even ask if we had any gold.”
“I don’t take payment from the dead.”
“From the dead?” Her ears twitched. “Don’t you dare say that! We’re still alive. Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t save you. I killed enemies. Those are two different things.”
She took a step forward. Then another. Now there were no more than three paces between them.
“No,” she said. “They’re not different. You saw us being slaughtered. You could have ridden past. But you chose to fight. Why?”
“Maybe I saw a potential guide in you. I need one,” Amanda said after a pause. “I’ll pay.”
The girl narrowed her eyes.
“With what?”
“Protection.”
“You’re alone,” she smirked. “And there are hundreds of them.”
“And who just cut down a bunch of soldiers? Wasn’t that me?”
“Hm, fair enough. You did just cut down a dozen men,” she crossed her arms over her chest, studying him. “That’s impressive. But it doesn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“Why you need a guide. Where you’re going. What you’re looking for in these steppes, where outsiders get cut down faster than they can introduce themselves.”
Amanda remained silent for a moment. She could feel the eyes of the beastfolk on her — wary, frightened, grateful. She saw the wounded old man the girl had bandaged before approaching. She saw how Miya carried herself — back straight, shoulders squared, even though the entire squad was watching her and waiting.
“I’m looking for Kaelen,” she said at last. “They say he’s gathering an army. I want to offer him my sword.”
Miya froze. Her ears twitched — a gesture Amanda couldn’t quite interpret, but which clearly meant something important.
“You’re looking for Kaelen,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes.”
“And you think the best way to find him is to ride across the steppe alone, without knowing the language, without a map, without a guide, and just wait for someone to attack a caravan?”
“Fate brought me here.”
“Fate?” She smirked, and this time there was something new in it — not mockery, but… interest. “You believe in fate, Reaper?”
“I believe in what I see. I see a squad that won’t reach its destination without help. I see a girl trying to look strong, but her hands are shaking. I see an opportunity.”
Miya tensed. Her tail flicked sharply, her ears flattening — she was stung.
“You dare—”
“I’m stating facts,” Amanda’s voice remained calm. “You have no choice. Your people are wounded, you’ve left a bloody trail, and the Khan’s dogs will return with reinforcements before dawn. Without me, you won’t make it. And I need a guide. It’s a deal. Do you accept?”
She fell silent, giving Miya time. The girl stared at the rider, and something fierce boiled in her eyes — anger, pride, humiliation. But Amanda saw the most important thing: she was thinking. Calculating. Looking for a way out.
“Suppose I agree,” Miya said at last. “I accept. But not because I have no choice.”
“Then why?”
“Because you intrigue me,” she said it simply, as if stating a fact. “You appeared out of nowhere, you kill men without even touching them with your blade, you wear armor I’ve never seen before. You speak with a voice that could belong to anyone, and you hide your face like an executioner. And yet here you are, searching for Kaelen without knowing the roads, without knowing the customs, without knowing a single person who could help you.”
She stepped closer. Now there was only one pace between them.
“You’re either insane,” she said quietly, “or the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met. And I intend to find out which.”
“I am the Reaper. That should be enough.”
“For me, it isn’t.”
“Your problem.”
“Mine,” she smiled, and there was something distinctly predatory in that smile. “And I plan to solve it. You will ride with us. You will protect us. And I will watch and listen. Sooner or later, you will slip up.”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Reaper,” she took a step back but didn’t break eye contact.
“Your people,” Amanda said instead of answering. “They’re waiting.”
Miya spun around sharply.
“Pack up!” her voice rang across the camp. “Load the wounded into the carts. We move out in a quarter of an hour.”
She had already taken a step toward her father, but stopped. She turned back. Smiled. And walked away.
A minute later, Torglin materialized beside her. The dwarf watched Miya walk away, then turned his gaze to Amanda.
“Well, well,” he said. “That she-wolf…”
“What?”
“She’s hunting you, girl. Not like an enemy. Like a puzzle. For someone like her, there’s nothing more dangerous than a riddle she can’t solve. Because they won’t rest until they get to the bottom of it.”
“I can handle it.”
“Handle it?” The dwarf snorted. “Did you see the way she was looking at you? Like a piece of meat that needs carving.”
“Torglin!”
“I’m serious,” the dwarf scratched his beard. “She thinks you’re a man. A mysterious warrior who saved their lives and swings a sword like a god. And now she wants to figure out who you really are. And then…”
“Then what?”
“Then,” he grinned into his beard, “she’ll want you.”
“Torglin, shut up.”
“Shutting up,” the dwarf raised his hands, but his eyes were laughing. “Just… be careful. Girls like her usually cut your head off first and ask questions later. Unless, of course, you cut first.”
He vanished into thin air, leaving Amanda alone.
She looked toward the camp, where Miya was commanding, bandaging wounds, and comforting her people — carrying everything on her own shoulders even though she could barely stand.
“Interesting,” she murmured softly, only to herself.
Then she swung into the saddle and rode toward the hill from which they had descended into the battle.
The caravan was already starting to move with the wounded when Miya called out after the rider:
“Reaper! Don’t fall behind! Or I’ll think you got scared!”
“I fear nothing.”
“Everyone fears something,” she smirked, watching the black figure ride up the hill. “The only question is — what.”
Her tail swayed slowly from side to side. A tiger-like warrior appeared beside her.
“Miya.”
“What?”
“You’re looking at him strangely.”
“I’m looking at him like a potential threat,” she replied without turning around.
“A threat?” The warrior smirked. “Your tail is wagging.”
Miya spun around sharply, and her gaze could have frozen boiling water.
“One more word, and you’ll walk the rest of the way to Kara-Shahar on foot.”
The warrior raised his hands and quickly retreated. Miya looked back at the hill, where the rider’s silhouette was already fading into the crimson light.
“Reaper,” she whispered, tasting the name on her tongue. “We’ll see who you really are.”
She clapped her hands, urging her people onward, and cast one last glance at the horizon before turning back to her duties.