The summer suns beam down on me as I bring in the harvest. The blood-red grain is plentiful this season and should bring in a tidy profit at the market. It’ll make for some very sweet bread in a bakery one day. My calloused hands work the sickle with years of practice. I stop to check on something else. It’ll be a couple of weeks for the cryodaisies to mature, the bone-white leafy bulbous heads of the vegetables release smoke due to their freezing temperature. 

When they’re ready they’ll be dangerous to touch without a thick glove. Hard to grow, and in high demand during these summer months, they’re the most valuable crop I have. Makes this back-breaking labor worth it. Sometimes. 

I still have to take in the Pons, juicy fruits as they are, and-

A thunder-like clap resounds somewhere above, the few clouds in the sky evaporate as near blinding light tears through the air. The beam crashes next to me, right into my cryodaisies. 

When the light fades, standing there is a huge warrior clad in armor and holding a massive sword. The weapon is meant for two hands, with that length and width. Yet the warrior holds it with one hand and has it pointed right at me. The sword has waves, perfect for countering other blades.

 There’s something on it that I would think is blood if not for its purplish color. 

The warrior stands, breathing heavily but the sword never wavers. The weapon I’m being threatened with is made from a kind of metal I’ve never seen. It’s a bright green that shimmers and glitters in the light. The armor is or was black, now it’s changing color, rippling like water in a pond. Scratches and dents cover the strange armor. Large claw marks from some kind of beast. 

There’s an oppressive heat coming off the warrior’s armor, steam rises from it, even in this summer warmth. 

The warrior’s armor settles on being a light sky blue. Whoever’s inside the armor finally catches their breath. How they can breathe through their helmet is a mystery as there are no visible openings. 

There’s a HISS and the warrior’s helmet separates at the face where there wasn’t a seam a moment ago. The helmet impossibly folds into itself and disappears into the neck. 

It reveals a pair of green eyes that have a frenzied look to them. The beautiful face of a woman looks at me in a sort of trance. I’ve seen it before, she quickly looks around like she’s expecting a fight. 

I stand perfectly still to let her relax, I’d rather not be the next thing she swings at in adrenaline fueled daze. 

Her breathing gets slower, she’s more calm seeing she’s not in danger. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asks. Her voice is soft, unlike her demeanor. 

“My name is Furti,” I lie. “This is my farm.” I look down at her feet. “And you just destroyed some of  my most valuable crops.” 

The warrior looks down to see the charred earth left behind by her beam of light. 

She takes a few more deep breaths. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t control where the Guiding Light takes me,” she explains. 

“I hope so, otherwise I’d think you intentionally decided to ruin my harvest.”

The warrior realizes she still has her sword pointed at me. She lowers it, stabbing it into the now scorched soil as she kneels. The massive sword is almost my height, and she leans on it for support. 

The adrenaline has left her body, now she’s just exhausted. 

“And who are you, stranger?” I ask her. 

“I’m Alessia Sanguis and uhh I’m not from around here,” she says. 

“Really?” I ask with faux surprise. She chuckles a bit. “Well, if you’re done pointing swords and ruining crops. I have to get back to my harvest.”

I return to my work, especially seeing as how I’ll be getting less coin for my effort. 

Alessia continues to kneel and breathe, she looks like she just got out of a fight for her life. It also looks like she might pass out from exhaustion. 

She looks up to the sky and observes the three suns. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen that before,” she says. I don’t know if it was directed at me but I respond anyway,

“The suns? Have you been living in a cave your whole life?”

I get another tiny laugh from her. 

“No, uhhh I’ve just never seen a world with three suns before,” she says. 

“‘World’?” I inquire. 

“It’s complicated,” she answers.

“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t like complicated things. You sit there and be complicated while I finish my work.”

The warrior looks at me, finally taking note of what I’m doing. 

“Hold on,” she says. Another HISS and her strange armor separates at various joints and the chest. This allows her to step out of it while the armor stays in the same position. I was hoping that the armor made her seem bigger than she appears. But it looks like I was wrong. 

She stands as tall and as wide as she seemed to be. Her armor must not be very thick. 

Her wardrobe continues to be strange. Without her armor, she has on a skintight garment that covers most of her body stopping at her neck. It’s made from a fabric I can’t identify and the majority of it is stone gray. But on her...endowed chest there are three arrows symbols. The top one is blue, then green and the last one is orange. If I had to guess, they represent some sort of rank. But of what I cannot say, nor do I care. 

The warrior comes closer and I truly understand the differences in our physiques. I’m no wilting flower thanks to decades of my very physical work. But this woman is a tree. Tall as one and twice as thick. 

Suns above, her biceps are the size of my thighs. And her thighs, I dare not comment on them unless I get into unsavory thoughts. 

Her hands are free from the garment, calluses dot them as a true sign of a warrior. Rough skin between her index finger and thumb travel across her palm. 

The hands of a warrior, no doubt. The hands of a killer? I have yet to find out. 

She definitely smells like a warrior, with the stench of sweat coming off her she must’ve been wearing her armor for days. She also reeks of sulfur. 

“Let me help out, as payment for your….crops,” she offers. The warrior stares at the cryodaisies like she’s never seen them before. 

Normally I wouldn’t entertain the notion of letting someone help me with my work. I’ve done this by myself for years now, I prefer the solitude of the work. But something tells me she won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. She seems like the real noble type. Besides, she’ll probably pass out in a moment anyway. 

“Fine, stranger from the sky. Come over here and hold this stalk.”

She obliges with a small smile. Her rough hand grabs the stalk with a butcher’s grip. 

“Hey!” I slap her hand to get her to ease up. “You ever done farm work before?”

“No,” she answers. 

“Yeah, it shows. It’s not a man’s throat, you don’t have to grab it that hard.”

I go through my work with my fumbling apprentice. The questions she clearly wants to ask never take form as we work, so the questions I have stay hidden as well. 

I was expecting her to pass out soon but she still stands on her feet, even with me explaining in great mind-numbing detail about all the crops I have. 

Indeed, she lasts through all of the farmwork. And she may not be able to properly pick Pons from the vine, but she can certainly lift a basket of them. 

Having her take the harvests in makes the process faster for me. I won’t have to worry about them drying out in the sun as I work on the next crop.

Oddly enough, the exhaustion has left her throughout these tasks. I expected lifting heavy baskets would make her tired but she has more energy if anything. Alessia no longer has that strained look on her face. This is how I imagine her to appear normally when she’s not descending from the heavens. 

Her dark brown hair is done in dreadlocks tied back behind her head. She is a truly beautiful woman, even the suns above agree as they kiss her face with light. Smooth dark skin on her elegant features. This stranger is worthy of being a muse to the greatest of artists, dressed in the finest of garments, fit to walk among the courtyards of the wealthiest nobles. 

Yet she is here, bigger than any woman or man I’ve seen helping me take in my crops. Unadorned of her impossible armor, it is clear she was made for whatever battles she wages. 

As Alessia picks up another basket of crops, her dazzling green eyes catch me staring at her. 

An unfamiliar feeling to me, someone looking at me as I look at them.

I clear my throat,

“You can relax after you take in that basket. I have to plant new seeds, and it’ll be faster without you.”

The stranger obliges, resting against the side of my house, watching me work. Most of the seeds I plant don’t require much thought. But the cryodaisies that need to be replaced require very specific conditions. 

Alessia’s armor and sword are still there, in the way of my work. 

“Your armor is in the way,” I tell her. Instead of getting up, she holds her hand out, palm facing the armor. She then makes a fist. As if possessed, the armor stands up on its own, holding the sword. It then walks over to its owner. I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it. Once it’s next to Alessia it kneels once again.

I almost ask how that was possible, but I won’t be the one to break our no questions policy. So I go to gather what I need. 

First, a tool that digs a hole as deep as my arm is long. The space it drills is no wider than my index finger. The hole must then have a bit of compost for the seed to feed off of. The burnt cryodaisies will suffice and provide a certain poetic justice.

Next is the seed. Though it hasn’t matured, the seed chills everything around it to a noticeable degree. It’s deposited at the bottom of the hole, from which it will sprout a vine that’s desperate for sunlight. The second tool needed for them is a long glass tube filled with water. The seed must get a drop of water regularly while the vine grows upwards. The tube is pushed through the soil at an angle to meet the resting place of the seed. The tube was designed by someone much smarter than me. I suppose it releases a drop of water when a certain condition is met. Perhaps a certain air pressure? Truthfully I don’t care, as long as it works it can remain a mystery. 

I have to do this tedious process several times. It absolutely kills my back. While I do it I look over to Alessia. She has her eyes closed, basking in the sunlight. The warrior seems positively serene. She is still but I don’t believe she’s sleeping. 

I finish my work and then take stock of what I’ve gathered. What Alessia burned will set me back in the future, but otherwise, I harvested the amount I expected. Everything is ripe and matured to be sold tomorrow. 

With less light in the sky, the day is over. Though a true night won’t visit any time soon as the summer is still young. 

With the work done, I invite Alessia in to rest and eat. Her armor follows her like a shadow and then waits by the door as a devoted sentinel. 

My home is simple, the way I prefer many things. It’s made from clay to make the summers bearable and the winters tolerable. I don’t know who built it, but they did a good job. Most of the space is occupied by the things of my trade. Seeds, collected grain, dried leaves, fresh fruits, and the various tools I employ. 

I farm to make money to continue farming. A pleasant cycle I fear Alessia will interrupt. 

“You smell like a rotting animal,” I tell her. 

“I enjoy your company as well,” she responds.

I scoff at the retort, partially because I have no comeback. 

“Get in the bathtub and wash yourself off while I prepare dinner,” I scold.

She looks out a window.

“Dinner? It’s still light out.”

I put a hand on my hip and stare at her to show my exasperation. 

The warrior surrenders, raising both her hands. 

“Okay, you win, I’ll bathe.”

I don’t need to show her where the tub is, there are no walls in my home, everything is visible the second you walk in. She walks over to it and I go to the stove. I turn a dial on the side, it opens a small panel on the bottom of the stove to let heat from the fire travel through a pipe underground that heats the water in the tub. 

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As I grab logs to start the stove the warrior works the water pump to fill the tub. I gather all the things I need for dinner and start the fire. 

A pot of Iso, the tiny green grains that are consumed by the poorest beggar to the richest noble. I make sure to add plenty of it to the pot, as I’m sure the stranger will want a healthy amount. 

While that cooks I prepare a broth and season the dried meats before I dice them. They’ll cook for a while with the vegetables I throw in. 

“Is the water warm enough?” I ask over my shoulder.

Alessia tests it for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

I’m curious as to how she gets in and out of that garment she’s wearing, I peek over my shoulder. 

She reaches between her shoulder blades, pulls at something, and then her outfit peels away from the back. 

That’s when I notice she’s not wearing anything underneath. I quickly turn my eyes back to my cooking. All my other senses hone in her, I listen to the water get displaced and hear her moan in pleasure as she sits. I feel her weight shift along the floor. And Overcasting Clouds I smell her. 

In all my years of living here, it’s only now that I wish I had walls to divide the space up. 

“You know, I can’t remember the last time I had a hot bath,” Alessia says to me. 

“You certainly smelled like it,” I respond while stirring the soup. 

The warrior chuckles. 

“Yeah, I was ripe.” She moves around in the bath, more water splashes out. The grate around the tub will drain it. “Sorry to bother you, but do you have soap or anything I can wash with?”

It slipped my mind to give it to her or point out where it is. 

“One moment,” I tell her. Turning around I receive quite an eyeful. I can submerge my entire body easily in the wooden tub. But Alessia has her legs over the edge, her feet almost touching the floor. The tub’s just big enough that the water obscures the view of her tremendous chest. 

Still, she leans back and lets the hot water relax her massive muscles. 

Since I refuse to let her see me rattled I quickly walk by to get the things. I throw a handful of bath salts into the water. When I hand the sponge and soap over she examines them with a curious eye. Perhaps she finds the black and red colors of the sponge unusual. She then sniffs the sky blue soap. It smells like a number of flowers but isn’t too overwhelming. I just got it a couple of days ago. 

With her inspection done she starts to bathe herself and I look away once again. 

I desperately want to focus on my cooking, but since I’ve done it for years my mind doesn’t feel the need to pay it any attention. Instead, I listen to the water move around as the stranger cleans herself in my tub. My mind tries to image what she’s cleaning; her arms? Her legs?

I put my left hand on the pot to focus my mind. Hot metal threatens to do serious damage to my skin in a short time. 

I keep it there. 

The pain will fade, it always does. 

“Hey,” she starts to say. I pull my hand away from the pot. “I didn’t say it before but, you have a lovely home.” 

I chuckle and close my fist to the pain. 

“You really must’ve been in a cave all your life. This place is quaint at best.”

A wry chuckle comes from the bathing woman. 

“A cave would’ve been a step up from the last world I was in,” she says. 

There’s that word again “world.” I’m letting her in my house and bathe, I’m cooking dinner for her; I think I’m entitled to ask a question or two. 

I turn to look at her. The soap has clouded the water so I only see the top of her breasts, but it’s still quite a sight. One I’m not sure I should be seeing. 

She has no visible reaction to my gaze, so I try to keep my head about it. 

“What do you mean when you say ‘world’,” I ask her. I walk over to where I keep dried goods and pick up a cyrodaisy leaf. Despite having been picked quite some time ago, it’s still very cool to the touch. I let it rest on my burned hand. 

“How and why did you appear out of the sky?” I ask further. 

The stranger rubs the back of her neck. 

“It’s…I don’t want to say ‘complicated’ because you already made it clear how you feel about that word. But it’s definitely not simple.”

I suppress the urge to press harder, she’s willing to talk about it. I walk back to the stove, hiding my burnt hand. 

“You seem like a smart one. Simplify it,” I say. 

As I stir the Iso she washes some part of her body. 

“Do you have a moon?”

Strange question. 

“Do I personally have a moon?”

“Does this planet have a moon?” She clarifies. 

Stranger way of asking. 

“Yes,” I answer. “There’s a moon in the sky.”

“Do you see other objects in the sky?” She asks. 

“In the winter,” I answer. “In the summer, when all three suns hang in the sky, there’s always light. Doesn’t make for good viewing conditions. But yes, there is Umbra and Rupes. They can be seen sometimes.”

“Okay, so imagine if the moon or these other planets had people on them. And imagine if every star you can see at night had a planet circling it like this one. And those planets had people on them. Life elsewhere besides this planet.”

I think about it for a moment. 

“Okay, so you’re from one of those planets?”

“Yes, and no. This is where it gets complicated.”

“I thought the complicated part was imagining all that life.”

“That’s nothing. Beyond this planet, is a nearly infinite expanse in every possible direction. Further than you can see, literally as it expands faster than light can reach it. It’s the universe we’re in. That you’ve been in your whole life.”

“Universe, got it,” I say. I sample the soup and it needs a bit more Izome. “Makes me feel small, thinking about that.”

“Well, you’ll feel smaller when I tell you that this is just one universe out of many. An infinite amount, some so wildly different and some practically the same. I wasn’t born in this particular universe, I’m from another one.”

I sprinkle some Izome crystals into the soup. 

“You’re taking this remarkably well,” Alessia notes. 

“If I hadn’t seen you appear out of a beam of light or your moving armor,” I put a lid on the soup “I’d say you’ve spent too much time out in the sun.” 

What she says is a nebulous concept, but hardly affects me in the slightest. My crops still grow and wither, people will talk and laugh and love, and the suns will shine regardless of this infinite universe nonsense.

“So how’d you get here? To this…universe?”

Alessia is washing her neck.

“That would be the Guiding Light, it takes me from world to world, universe to universe,” she explains. 

“And, pray tell, what is this Guiding Light?”

“That I can’t explain.”

“Is it a secret?” I stir the soup to take my mind off the pain in my left hand.

“No, I just don’t understand it myself. I don’t know how it transports me across universes. Clearly, the force behind it understands space and time in a way I can’t.”

“And what is the force behind the Guiding Light?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Can’t help but sense there’s more to that than she says. I won’t press for more information...for now. I look over at her curious armor. It stands with the sword in hand, dormant. I wouldn’t think of it as a threat if I didn’t know it could move on its own. 

There were scratches and dents on her armor when she first appeared. But they’re smaller now, some are completely gone. 

“Your armor,” I start to ask. The soup is almost done. “How does it move on its own? And what happened to the damage I saw on it?”

“Uhhh, do you know what electricity is?” she asks.

I have heard of the phenomenon that is electricity, and what it can do. But it isn’t common knowledge.

“‘Electricity?’” I repeat the word like I’ve never heard it before. 

“Okay, that'll be hard to explain then.”

It’s better she thinks I’m a dumb farmer. 

“Imagine if the tools you use to farm could do what they’re made for without you using them. Through a series of ropes, pulleys, and wheels. Linked together so that they do their job as one. That’s called a machine. My armor is composed of many tiny and very complex machines.”

“And this ‘electricity’ makes these machines work?”

“That’s right. It can repair itself, assume other configurations as needed, and other things.”

“But how does it know where to walk to?”

“Do you know what radio waves and brain signals are?”

I shake my head. I don’t want another science lesson. 

“Forget it, dinner is almost done. I’ll get you something to wear.” I can tell she’s about to bring up her filthy garment. “We’ll wash that stinking thing tomorrow. You’ll wear something clean for dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says. 

I turn the stove off and fetch some things for Alessia. A towel and the biggest nightgown I have. I usually wear it in the winter, so it might be too warm for her to wear. But she’s considerably taller than me, so it might even out. 

I give her the things and go to serve our food. Keeping my eyes on this side of the house to give her privacy, I set the table for two. Though I’ve had next to no need for another chair I’m glad I had it out of a desire for symmetry. I retrieve a loaf of sweet bread to have with the food, and a knife to cut through the crust. 

Sitting down for the first time today, the pain in my knees alleviates. What I wouldn’t give for new joints. 

“Ummm Furti, do you have anything…longer?” Alessia asks. I turn to look at her-

Sweet Merciful Rain. 

“Sorry, I don’t carry clothes for mountains,” I say, trying to maintain my composure. 

I failed to take into account her…voluptuous chest, bringing up the rest of the garment. With that and her height, the hem of the gown just barely reaches her brawny thighs. The knowledge she has nothing underneath bleeds into my mind. 

She attempts to pull it down further her legs but thinks better of it when it’s clear the gown can barely contain her as is. 

A light breeze could show what sweet banquet lies beneath. 

If I was younger and hungrier I’d do everything in my power to get a taste of that feast. 

But I’m older now, my back hurts, and I’m quite tired. Perhaps if the stranger hangs around this universe for a while, I’ll indulge in such hedonistic urges. 

“It’s rude to stare,” she says. 

Her arms are just fitting in the sleeves, if she flexed or sneezed she’d tear the fabric. 

I clear my throat as quietly as possible. 

“It’s hard not to. Now sit, young lady.”

“‘Young lady?’” Though she says it with displeasure, she complies, sitting opposite me. 

I look her over more. 

It’s hard to guess her age, she’s certainly younger than me. Her skin hasn’t wrinkled from years in the light of the suns like mine. 

Unless she’s actually been in a cave all her life or wears her armor all her time, she should have some wrinkles. Especially with skin as dark as hers. It certainly supports her claim of being from another universe. 

“So, if you’re from some other universe, how is it that we’re conversing? What miracle allows us to understand each other?”

“The Guiding Light can translate for me when needed. But we’re just speaking the same language; it happens more often than you think.” Alessia starts to eat. “This is good, been a while since I had a meal this tasty,” she says with her mouth full. 

“Chew, then speak,” I command. Taking a bite of my food I can proudly say it came out good. 

My examination of the stranger continues. Her skin is truly flawless, from her face to her hands to what I dared to see of her legs, there aren’t any scars. An unusual occurrence for a warrior. 

“You have the armor, weapon, and strength of a warrior. Yet you don’t have any scars.”

Alessia chuckles.

“I tend to dodge in battles, plus the armor’s job is to stop injuries.”

“Cocky, especially for someone who doesn’t have her own underwear,” I jab. 

“The last world I visited was rough. During a surprise attack, my personal items were burnt to a crisp, including my regular clothes. I had no choice but to wear my pre-suit all this time,” she defends herself. “The chaffing was killing me.” 

“Besides chafing, what’s the purpose of your ‘pre-suit’?” I ask. I cut a chunk of sweet bread off and dip it into my soup. 

“Prevents pinching, you don’t want to wear armor on your bare skin,” she explains. 

“Hmm,” I reply, taking a bite of the bread. Sweet and savory mix together perfectly. 

Alessia copies me, taking some bread to dip. 

A silence falls between us. It’s not an awkward one though, it’s rather comfortable in fact. We just enjoy the food quietly. There are more questions to be asked, by both of us I’m sure. But for now, we eat. She makes short work of her food and I give her seconds. 

Alessia thanks me and we eat silently again. 

With only one sun in the night sky, I observe her in clear detail. 

Her eyes are larger than any I’ve ever seen. Their green color, though unusual, isn’t completely abnormal. Her nose is wide as is her mouth, and her eyebrows have a soft arching angle to them. 

I can only sit on my questions for so long, however. One rises to the top priority wise. 

“Why does the Guiding Light take you from world to world, universe to universe?” I ask. The sophistication of her armor and the massive sword doesn’t signal it’s as a peacemonger. 

Alessia stops eating for a moment. 

“The Light has taken me to many worlds. Each with life and civilizations, in various degrees of advancement. But for each of them there was something that threatened a substantial loss of life. Anywhere from genocide to global extinction events,” the warrior says. 

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 

“If I’ve been sent here then there’s a threat to your world.”

My eyes dart to the knife in the bread. Hundreds of thoughts race through my mind at once. Alessia continues to eat casually like she didn’t divulge something troubling. 

The inaction of the stranger helps me suppress my instincts. 

“What kind of threat?” I ask. 

“The world I just came from had a being of flame and lava that tried to erupt a colossal volcano in an attempt to snuff out all life on the planet.” 

That explains the heat I felt coming off her when we first met. And the smell. 

“We were fighting for days,” she elaborates further. 

“Days?”

She nods. 

“My body doesn’t fatigue easily. I can stay awake while doing excessive physical labor for quite some time.”

I was wondering how she could still be awake, she looked drained before but now she seems fine. 

“Is that so?” I half-heartedly ask. 

“So, this may sound like a weird question; but do you know of any potentially world-ending threats looming over your world?”

I wonder how much I should tell her. How much does she need to know? Would she be able to tell if I withhold something?

“None as far as I can tell,” I answer. “There have been wars in the past, and no good ever comes from war. But the powers that be are at peace now. They have been for decades. So I think your Guiding Light might’ve sent you swimming for shade.”

She raises an eyebrow at me. 

“It’s an expression around here.” 

“Ah. In any case, sometimes the threat to a world is obvious but others I have to figure it out,” Alessia continues. 

Again thoughts clash in my mind, all trying to decide the best course of action. 

“It may come as a surprise to you but not many people come here to my farm. I’m not exactly in touch with the rest of society. Tomorrow, we’ll go into town, get you some gargantuan clothes, and you can terrify everyone with your talk of world-ending threats,” I suggest. 

She tugs at the gown. 

“I would like some clothes that fit. That sounds like a good plan, Furti.”

“Good, then I’m going to sleep. You’ve exhausted me,” I jokingly chide. I gather my dishes and set them aside to clean later. 

“You’re welcome to lie next to me.” I climb into my bed, acutely aware of the fact that I haven’t bathed. But if I were to undress with Alessia in the state of dress she’s currently in, I feel like I’d give in to my baser instincts. 

“Even if you aren’t tired, I’m sure resting would be good for you.” It’s been years since I last shared my bed with a woman or man, for any reason one would share a bed. 

She looks at my place of rest.

“I don’t think I could fit on your bed,” she counters. She’s probably right. 

“Well get some rest anyway, because the idea of you standing over me all night like your armor, won’t help me sleep.” I pull the covers over me. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” she says. “I’ve slept in much worse places.” 

The stranger walks over to the wall and sits down. Leaning back and letting her hands rest in her lap, she nuzzles her head against the wall. 

“Good night, Furti, I suppose?” Alessia quizzically says. 

She doesn’t know. There’s no way she could know. Even with her Guiding Light, she couldn't know. She can't ever know. I’m not going to let her know. 

“Good night, Alessia,” I respond. 

Ch. 1 End.