A/N: Hello, fellow readers. I'm here with this small extension to the Thanza chapter. Although it seems pretty short in some cases, a story such as this can still provide entertainment. That said, sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Killer Instinct or Carrie. They belong to their respective owners.


The Thanza Valley kept its beauty for many years, attracting tourists. Its snow-capped mountains remained tall, protecting against the elements. Despite this, pollution dulled the valley's natural beauty.

While the local government reduced emissions, the region needed time to heal. Still, the town continued its daily activities.

Staying in the shadows, Carrie and Jago snuck through the village. During their alms rounds trip, they discovered Gargos' cult and learned of their intentions. They planned to return to the Tiger Shrine, but with the sect guarding the paths, they had only one choice.

After traversing the village without detection, they found a yak-drawn cart belonging to a wandering merchant.

The man visited a food stall to replenish supplies. The yak chewed its cud, swiping its horselike tail against its shaggy coat.

"We need to time this right, or we'll be stuck here with those cultists," Jago said.

"Couldn't we ask the villagers for help?" Carrie said. "Or that merchant?"

"We can't depend on them. One could expose us if those fanatics bent them under pressure." The monk thought about the poor stall owner who had lost his life. "Stay put while I check the cart."

"What if there isn't enough room?"

"We'll figure something out. One thing is certain: we must leave this village."

After checking the scenery, Jago crept toward the wagon. During this process, the trader and market owner haggle. Before he raised the cover, the yak grunted, freezing him. The sturdy animal shook its head, minding its own business.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled it back. Thank Buddha. There's enough space.

After lowering himself, the monk glanced back at Carrie, who prayed in her hiding spot. He threw a few pebbles to grab her attention. Once he motioned for her to come, she shuffled toward him. "Okay, you go ahead. I'll follow you."

Staying quiet, Carrie climbed on, slipping through the covering. After passing the alms bowl to her, Jago followed. Both lay on their stomachs, with several jars and various products near their feet.

"What now?" Carrie asked.

"Now, we wait. I hope the seller doesn't find us."

"Well, well," a voice called. "What's a merchant doing here?"

They studied the silhouettes, sensing the tension in the air. Suspicious, the merchant spoke his native tongue.

"He's curious about our business with him," another person said.

While listening, Jago squinted. The discussion eluded him, but it mentioned a ritual for their master, albeit subtle. The sheet lifted and grew from the far end. Silent breaths escaped him while his stomach tightened.

Carrie turned where the monk stared and almost screamed. Jago covered her mouth, motioning to stay quiet. While breathing through her nose, Carrie prayed to God for protection. The old tarp pulled back further, stopping before them. Each pair of hands picked up many jars before the cover blocked the light.

With slumped shoulders, Jago removed his hand from Carrie's mouth. The latter glanced up, thanking God.

The shadowy figures walked away but paused mid-way.

"Have you seen a girl and a monk?" the stranger asked. A second person translated the words into Nepali.

The trader furrowed his brows and spoke.

"He says no," the translator said. "He also wants to know why."

"Tell him our reasons are not to be shared."

After the translator rephrased the message in Nepali, they left.

"What ritual are they planning?" Carrie whispered.

"Oh, you heard it too? Something awful, I'm sure. Even worse, it involves us," Jago said.

Carrie shivered, dreading what the 'customers' were planning. The yak bellowed as wheels crunched the ground, making the girl flinch. "What's happening?"

"Relax. We're moving. Here's hoping we'll remain out of sight for the journey."

Unaware of the stowaways, the trader left the village, riding on his yak. The road followed the riverbed, winding through rugged terrain. Clouds drifted across the sky, some rolling over the mountains. Forests and plains blended in the foothills. He exchanged his wares for various goods for each village he visited.

Inside the tarp-covered cart, Jago and Carrie stayed hidden. At specific points, he peeked outside, searching for signs of danger. Keeping quiet, they ate food from the alms bowl, easing their hunger pains. Although they remained safe, they couldn't stay forever.

The duo became exhausted as the day progressed. Jago checked on Carrie, who had since fallen asleep. He still needed to consult the girl regarding her powers, but how? Given the situation, the monk resolved to wait until his ward was in a better state of mind. As weariness took hold, he rested his head on his arms and fell asleep.

Though surrounded by darkness, an acrid odor hit the monk's nose. Coughing, he wanted to move away from the source but couldn't. Once he opened his eyes, he froze. Flames licked a building as thin smoke clouds sought to escape.

People screamed from behind him as they banged on the double doors. Around him were scattered tables and chairs mixed with dead bodies.

"What is this? Hell?" Glancing around, he found paper stars hanging on the ceiling. From his left, closed bleachers trapped a dead person. Above the seats, a half-burned banner revealed the following words: High School Prom.

As he glanced ahead, a silhouette with widened red eyes stood on a stage containing two burning chairs. In a trance-like state, the figure lifted three thick electrical wires without physical contact.

Jago trembled as he stepped back until something splashed beneath his feet. As he looked down, the monk gasped at the damp floor. As if sensing what would happen next, he leaped on a nearby table.

After dropping the wires on the wet floor, electricity surged. Anyone who couldn't escape screamed as their bodies convulsed. Their skin burned, and their eyes bulged from their sockets.

Horror-struck, Jago shifted towards the individual, who walked off the stage. "Who are you?" At first, it didn't answer and headed for the exit. He repeated the question, this time louder.

The figure stopped, turning towards him. Though the fire obscured its features, its stare stunned Jago. By waving its arms, it used the inferno to spell the following words: "I… am… Death!"

Jolted awake, beads of sweat pooled on the monk's face. While composing himself, something grabbed his attention. Darkness surrounded the tarpaulin with scant light. Night already? How long was I asleep?

A faint moan came to him as he shifted to Carrie. Her body trembled with sweat seeping from her pores.

Carrie. So you had that nightmare, and I was there. Jago paused with furrowed brows. Was it a dream or a memory? He pushed the notion aside and nudged her. "Carrie? Carrie, wake up."

Carrie awoke, gasping. She glanced around until Jago calmed her.

"Are you okay?"

As her breathing returned to normal, she nodded. "Where are we? The cart isn't moving."

"I'll find out." Jago peeked through the tarp before pushing it away for a better view. Over the sky, a dark band contained an immense number of stars.

The valley remained quiet, apart from the chirping crickets and the yak's grunt. The roving trader was asleep in a sleeping bag beside a campfire.

Carrie glanced at the night sky as she arose. "Oh, wow! Those stars are beautiful!"

The monk smiled underneath his mask. "Come. We should leave."

Carrie hopped off the cart first. After grabbing the alms bowl, Jago did the same. While sneaking away, the yak's snort startled them. However, the animal remained asleep. She stroked the yak's snout before leaving with Jago.

With the North Star as a guide, they continued the trail leading to a forest. Leaves and sticks crunched beneath them.

Though not showing fear, Jago's senses were on high alert. He stopped whenever a strange noise reached him. However, he didn't perceive most of them as threats.

After several hours, they arrived at a clearing. Before they could cross, Jago stopped and gestured for Carrie to do the same. His ears caught a soft growl from the woods.

"What's wrong?" Carrie asked.

"Not sure. Hold onto the bowl and stay close to me." Jago clenched one hand into a fist; the other grabbed the sword handle. While scanning the forest, two amber eyes caught his eye. He drew out his sword and pointed toward them. "Show yourself!"

As if complying, the amber-eyed entity emerged. Though the size of a horse, the creature had a lion's appearance. Under the pale moonlight, white fur glistened. Its greenish-blue mane flowed around the neck and tail. Its paws didn't touch the soil.

Carrie blinked. "Is that… a lion? I have never seen one before, let alone with those colors. I also didn't know they thrived in Tibet."

The monk kept his sword close. "That's the problem: they don't."

Jago remembered hearing stories about this creature as a child. Snow Lions were symbols of strength and bravery in ancient times. In paintings and sculptures, these creatures defend Tibetan culture. Under normal conditions, he and Carrie would consider themselves blessed. However, his demeanor changed upon seeing bite marks on the lion's left shoulder.


A/N: The shapeshifter has arrived, but what is its intention for our duo? It's time to rest my brain, so I'll see you later.