Hilda served hot, steaming tea to Ewan, Clay, and Vance, who sat on a sofa with big red pillows.

“Thank you,” Ewan said.

“You're welcome.”

Hilda glared at the violet-haired lady, still unconscious on the floor, her body bound by ropes and her mouth gagged by rags, a tall bookcase behind her that was split in the middle by a built-in clock.

“It's an honor to share tea with Vance the hero,” Clay said happily.

“I appreciate the reverie, but my time as a hero has come and gone,” Vance said. “These days, I am but a humble adventurer.”

Vance and Clay sipped their tea.

Clay looked at the violet-haired lady. “In that case, would you mind taking this one back to Cottonheart?”

“Dad, why are you letting her go like this? It’d be better if we put her down. No one would lose any sleep with her gone.”

“Maybe, but then she would also be free from the mortal coil. Killing her would be too easy, and it would absolve her of any real deliberation. While she’s rotting in prison, she can think about what she’s done.”

Ewan drank some of his tea. He wondered if leaving her alive was the best choice, but he didn’t share what was on his mind.

Vance finished his tea and grabbed the witch lady, holding her like a bride.

“Leaving already?” Ewan asked.

“I would like to talk to you more, but alas, as I am an adventurer, I do have other responsibilities. But before I go, let us exchange party cards.”

“If you’re referring to the ID you showed me, I don’t have one yet.”

“I see. Well, I’ll be on the lookout for you.” Then he made eye contact with Clay. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll be taking my leave now. The day is young, but there’s still much work to be done.”

Ewan watched Vance leave, finishing his own tea as he did so. “You two must really trust The Adventurers' Guild.”

“Some adventurers can be real jerks,” Hilda said. “But Vance is literally a hero, so his reputation checks out.”

“I’ll ask him about his life, sometime.”

“When you do that, can you ask him who sent the commission? I forgot to do so, and when you find out, can you have a crow send the information back to me?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Hilda said. “Recapping on Cottonheart, you’ll wanna take the other fork in the road. The path is relatively safe, so you should be able to make it without any trouble.”

“I appreciate you.”

Hilda cozied up to him. “I’ll admit, I’m gonna miss you.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be around.”

“You jerk. You’re supposed to say something like ‘I’ll miss you too,’ or ‘I’ll be sure to visit.’”

“You could also visit us,” Clay said. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer, but I’ll eventually make my way back to Cottonheart.”

“When I have more money, I’ll treat both of you to a meal.”

“That’s more like it,” Hilda said.

Ewan smiled, but he looked more anxious than anything.

I wonder how long it’ll take for me to get back home…

He looked at the clock, ticking time away, and he wondered what Iona was doing, what Ana was doing, what they thought about his passing, what his friends were doing, what his job must’ve thought about what happened.

Then he wondered if Adam had been reincarnated too, or was his soul assimilated in that cherry blossom oblivion?

Ewan closed his eyes, and let his mind wander into a dark place.

Multi-storied buildings flanked the pathway leading into the sprawling city of Cottonheart. Numerous market stalls dotted the street, with monochromatic silks stretching over the stalls. This particular street stretched a good mile before the path diverged in several directions.

People bartered for food, drink, clothing, and other miscellaneous goods.

Ewan walked down the street, looking tired after hours of walking, but a spark of hope radiated in his eyes. He wore new threads and had a bag on his back. Looking around, he spotted a particular stall where there was a tall man hunched over a table displaying clockwork prostheses: fingers, eyes, and appendages. The man noticed him and greeted him with a wave and a smile. Ewan returned the gesture.

Something cawed above him, and Ewan looked up to see black birds the size of sea turtles, flying in the direction that he just came from. He marveled at the sight for a good minute before resuming his journey, blending into the crowd and heading further into the city.

A sand-colored cottage with clay-tiled roofing nestled between other, similarly uniformed homes, had its door buckle violently, as if someone had been thrown against it. On the other side of the door, a woman rose from the ground, her long brown hair a mess over her face. Her hazelnut-colored eyes smoldered with rage, as she glared at a tall and well-built man, wearing a disheveled white shirt and black trousers. He staggered forward, his eyes glazed over.

Tears welled in the corner of her eyes as she wrapped her left arm around her stomach, the pain still fresh and throbbing. “Jacob... I told you… to never hit me again.”

Jacob’s hand shot out like a cobra going in for the kill, wrapping around her throat, lifting her off the ground, and pinning her to the door.

She held back tears.

He got real close, his eyes filled with madness. “I don’t like when you tell me how to live my life. It makes me angry, and I don’t like being angry at you, babe. But you—you bring this out of me.”

“I’m not the one… making you hit me—”

Jacob punched a hole through the wall to the left of the door. “Yes—YOU ARE. You do make me hit you!”

Tears fell down both their eyes.

“I love you so much, Char, but you always hurt me,” and he strengthened his grip around her neck, choking the life out of her. “But I don’t blame you. It’s your parents who failed you. They never taught you how to love someone else. I don’t blame you.”

“I can’t… please stop.”

Jacob didn’t listen. He brought his other hand around her throat and squeezed harder.

She choked, but something happened. Her fear was butchered by her instinct, her will to survive, to live.

A blade appeared in her right hand, and she placed her hand on his chest. There was a bright flash of light, like a flashbang going off. An invisible force sent Jacob flying across the room, making him crash into a cabinet with decorative dishes. The glass shattered and the dishes broke and fell over him, and a single fragment sliced open his cheek.

She fell to the ground and gasped for air, her legs wobbly and weak. She tried her best to ease her shaking, her anxiety, her fear and anger, but she couldn’t do it. Not now, not with him there.

Jacob slammed a fist into the floor, busting his knuckles open. “Charlotte… you fucking bitch. I won’t let you get away with this. I refuse to let you use and abuse me any longer!”

Charlotte considered what she could do with her blade, but instead it disappeared from her hand. A part of her wanted to fix the situation, but more than enough of her had tolerated that man for too long. She had enough.

Without saying a word, she opened the door and slammed it shut.

Ewan was walking down some street, minding his own business, when he heard a door slam behind him. He looked back and saw Charlotte, with tears ruining her make-up, creating stark, black streaks down her face, drawing attention to the budding bruise on her neck.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck off.”

“Fair enough.”

Ewan kept walking and she scurried behind him, making sure not to get too close. She looked back at Jacob’s house, expecting him to burst out of the door and rampage down the street, attacking her and this poor passerby.

But the door stayed closed, so she shifted her attention back to Ewan, catching up to him and matching his stride.

“You must be new here,” she said. “Where’re you heading off to?”

“I’m heading to The Adventurers' Guild.”

“Since we’re both going the same way, mind if I join you?”

“You don't deserve what you're going through,” Ewan's face twisted with rage and empathy.

“I don't know—”

“—I'm here for you,” Ewan said with a stern conviction.

“You don't even know me,” Charlotte said, feeling her own anger bubbling up again.

“I don't have to,” Ewan said. “I've known a lot of people who've gone through the same shit you did. Happened to a close friend of mine too. Supporting you would be the right thing to do. Women go through enough. People go through enough. You don't need someone else in your life making things harder for you.”

“And how are you supposed to know what a woman needs in her life?”

“I've never had a woman tell me that she enjoys being abused,” Ewan said.

Charlotte bit her lip, her sadness tempering the anger in her heart.

“I'll support you,” Ewan said. “Whoever is hurting you, you don't have to deal with it alone.”

“I appreciate that,” Charlotte said. “But if you did anything, my boyfriend would ruin your life.”

“Can you see into the future?”

“No...?”

“Then I'd say my chances are pretty good,” Ewan said confidently. “Abusive men always think they're hot shit, but in reality, they're just lucky.”

“What makes them lucky?” Charlotte asked.

“They're around people who won't stand up to them,” Ewan said. “So the abuser thinks they're more powerful than they really are.”

“Sometimes abusers have significant power though,” Charlotte said. “A rich man with good connections is not an uncommon story. If a woman gets into a relationship with a man who is as vicious and cruel as he is rich, what can she really do? Even if she gets help, what can they do? Unless the people supporting her are as equally rich and powerful as the person hurting her, they can't really do anything.”

“You've got a great point,” Ewan said. “But a rich person isn't invincible. They're just harder to deal with.”

“So how would you deal with it then?” Charlotte said, feeling her anger flow back into her veins. “You find out a friend is being abused by someone rich and powerful. She can't get away from this guy. He pays off the cops. Buys all the lawyers, you name it. At that point, what can you do to stop that guy?”

Ewan stopped moving.

Charlotte did the same.

Ewan looked at her with a cold conviction in his eyes. “I'd put him in the grave. If he's that powerful and he's hurting someone I care about, I'll make sure he never gets the chance to hurt her or anyone else ever again.”

Charlotte looked at him with a mix of fear and adoration. Fear for the anger in his eyes, and adoration for how strong and confident he portrayed himself.

In a way, it reminded her of Jacob.

“I like your confidence,” Charlotte said. “But maybe when you meet my boyfriend, you'll think twice about everything you told me.”

“I doubt it,” Ewan said.

They started walking again.

“Maybe you're right,” Charlotte said.

After another half an hour of walking, they reached an inordinate building that had wood as black as charcoal, with a roof that looked like the hull of a ship. The windows were shaped like bullets, and each of them was tinted black and contrasted by the white accents of their frames. The doors were white, with engravings of moths perched on thin, tangled branches.

Ewan held the door open for her.

“A real gentleman. You don’t see too many of your type.

“You’re wrong about me. Deep down inside, I’m pretty terrible.”

“You do a good job fooling me.”

Ewan gestured for her to enter. She did so and he followed.

Starting from the back, a bar surrounded several shelves filled with a panoply of drinks. Several bartenders moved behind the bar, serving drinks and small platters of food to various patrons. Shifting towards the middle, tables surrounded a rectangular fire pit, where the blue fire crackled as people chatted away about their lives and the lives of others. At the entrance, several tables were spread at variable distances from each other, with a few tables being so close that some of the patrons would be sitting back to back.

The doors to the entrance swung open, and everyone took a moment to stop what they were doing and stare at Charlotte and Ewan.

They resumed what they were doing almost immediately.

Charlotte walked ahead of Ewan, and he took a moment to check out her out, but his eyes quickly snapped to a woman with curly purple hair and green eyes, sitting alone at one of the tables near the center. She had a mug of something, and was enjoying her drink in peace until she noticed Charlotte.

“Can I crash at your place for a bit?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

“I know, but this feels right to me for me to do so anyways,” Charlotte said.

The purple-haired lady stared at Ewan, and she smiled at him, somewhat less sincerely.

He reached out to shake her hand. “My name is Ewan. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Ewan procured his letter of recommendation and placed it on the table. He then pulled out a seat for Charlotte, which she accepted. He took his seat on the opposite side. “I’m here to enroll in The Adventurers' Guild.”

Ram stared into Ewan’s eyes for a moment while her hand reached for the letter. “It’s your lucky day. I happen to be an administrator.”

She slipped out a folding knife that she kept hidden in one of her sleeves. She flicked a small mechanism and the knife whipped out. Dragging the blade across the top of the envelope, she sheared through the paper that kept the letter bound.

She plopped the letter out and started reading.

Charlotte reached over and placed a gentle hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, but I’ve had a long day, so I’m gonna go.”

“I’ll see you around.”

Charlotte slipped away and made her way to a back exit.

“So,” Ram said. “You’re the one Vance talked about. I'm glad you helped out. Hilda's had it rough, and so has Clay.”

She clapped her hands twice and a woman wearing a black double-breasted coat over a red sweater walked over to them. The woman pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to Ram, taking a moment to look at Ewan before leaving without saying a word.

Ram unfolded the paper and slid it over to Ewan. It was blank.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I need you to lick that paper.”

He looked at her with incredulous skepticism.

“The adventurer cards, or party cards as people like to call it, bind through liquid. If licking it grosses you out, you can always prick your finger,” and Ram offered her knife to Ewan.

He looked at her, then back at the paper, then back at her, and then he licked the paper.

“You mad man. You actually did it.”

Ewan blushed profusely.

“Take it easy. I’m playing with you.”

She pointed at the paper, which began to glow as if it were being swathed in radiant flame, but the light didn't burn. Instead, Ewan’s name was imprinted into existence, and a vertical line snaked down the middle, creating left and right. The light danced on the right side, swirling into various shapes, from budding plants to fluttering butterflies, but the butterflies turned into a tombstone and the stone cracked in half. The stone reformed into cherry blossoms, floating gently until they swirled and shifted into what could only be described as a vague parody of a Rorschach test.

“So…” Ewan said. “What’s the significance here?”

“It’s supposed to represent something about yourself, but I’ve never seen one do what yours did.”

“I really need to learn more about magic.”

“Well, no one really ‘learns,’ magic. The gods give it to us, but it comes with some crazy price and some bullshit limitations. What else is there to know?”

“That's what I'm trying to figure out,” Ewan said.

“You can figure that out later. You’ve got a lot of paperwork to do, which means I have a lot of paperwork to do.”

Ewan set his paper down. “You admins have it rough.”

“You have no idea,” Ram said, her demeanor beaming with pride. “I’ll tell ya’, what I have to go through to keep this place—”

Jacob sat down beside Ram, his eyes bitter and his face red.

Ewan’s instincts warned him of imminent danger.

“Where is Charlotte?”

Ram inhaled deeply and gently tried to push Jacob away. “Maybe you should take a moment to calm down…”

Jacob flipped the table over and it crashed onto the ground.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in that general direction, their faces held with mutual disgust, but none of them did anything as Jacob stood up, towering over a fearful Ram.

She held her knife with both hands, desperately trying to steady her shaking body.

“Go ahead,” Jacob leaned into her, pressing his body against the knife, just enough to draw some blood. “Do it. See what happens to you.”

Ram lowered her knife, bringing it away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

He waited for an answer.

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

“You don’t wanna get back at me for what I do to your best friend? Aren’t you frustrated over what I’ve done to her, what I’ll continue to do to her?”

Ewan stood up, but he was ignored by both of them.

“I fucking knew it, you’re just a weak, pathetic—”

Ewan wrapped his arms around Jacob’s neck, a perfect rear naked chokehold, and took him to the ground. Jacob flailed like a fish out of water, surprised at Ewan’s strength. He kept struggling to break free, but Ewan was relentless, choking him out like someone else’s life depended on it.

Ram kneeled beside them. “I appreciate you stepping in, but don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

“I gave you a chance to do the right thing. I gave everyone else a chance to do it, but since no one else will…”

Jacob gagged for air, his strength fleeing his own body.

When he was finally unconscious, Ewan let go.

“You should probably notify the local law enforcement. Get this guy out of here.”

“Yeah…”

Ewan stood up and placed the table back where it was supposed to be. “Are you okay, Ram?”

“Uh… no, but I will be, eventually…”

“That’s good,” and he turned to Jacob, who had an aura of anger even while unconscious. “So, what’s this guy’s deal?

“He’s an abusive piece of shit that Charlotte fucks around with,”

“Ah, sometimes it do be that way.”

“You’re… in some deep fucking trouble my guy,”

“Why? This guy someone important?’

“No, but he is a cop… and you did just assault him. Even if he was being an asshole, he’s still an officer of the law, and you’re new to town…”

Ewan nodded his head, but he looked more reminiscent than defeated. “Yeah, that checks out. It’s typical for the law to look after their own. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll be able to get myself out of this one.”

“I like your confidence,”

Ewan opened his mouth to speak, but an immense feeling of exhaustion washed over him, like an ocean crashing on his head. He tried to use the table to keep himself up, but his energy abandoned him. Falling down, the darkness quickly took over his vision, but he struggled to stay awake.

Ram sighed in defeat. She knew what was coming, and surely enough, a woman wearing a light blue dress made her way over.

“I can alway appreciate a man who stands up for a woman,” she said. “I do like me those good old fashioned values.”

“Chlo please,” Ram pleaded. “Don't hurt him.”

“I’m sorry little missy, while I admire his bravado…”

Ewan couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Everything sounded far away.

“I still have a job to do…”

The sphere in the sky, yellow and hot, beamed its light towards a building of cracked stone. There are no windows to this building, and a metal door sealed the entrance to that place. People walk by the building as if it doesn’t exist

Somewhere on the inside, Ewan woke up in a room illuminated by a single crystal that dangled from a metal device that was attached to the ceiling. Ewan tried to move, but found himself bound to a rack, held in place by multiple leather straps.

From his point of view, he was able to see Chlo, a middle-aged woman dressed in a dark navy vest with black pants. She was standing next to a metal door, with a small grate near the bottom.

Slowly pacing his way, she took her time to analyze his build. His muscles weren’t as dense as Jacob’s, but he was athletic enough.

“I like the way you handled Jacob,” she said. “You a mercenary?”

“No, nothing exciting like that.”

Chlo walked in front of him and drove her first into his stomach. Ewan jerked forward, his face contorted with pain. He took a labored breath and directed his angry visage at the woman who struck him.

“You reflexively flexed your muscles. It’s almost like you knew I was going to hit you.”

“Lady, I am unemployed. That’s why I came here, to Cottonheart. I’m looking for work.”

Chlo cracked her fingers. “I’ve got some intel on you, so don’t play dumb with me.”

Ewan paused to deliberate what this lady had told him but did not let any of the anxiety show. His poker face concealed that, and he rapidly analyzed the people he met in this new world.

Chlo punched him again, this time in the face with so much force that it busted his lip open.

Ewan said nothing. He only stared at her with rage in his eyes.

“I take no pleasure in hitting you,” she said. “If anything, I admire your courage. Men should stand up for women, even if they’d be punished.”

“But I’m not here for helping Ram.”

She patted him on the shoulders as if he were a close, family friend. “That's a good way of looking at it. I think Jacob is an absolute piece of human garbage. I was waiting, actually, for someone to do something. But because of his status, people opted to suffer his existence rather than face the potential… you know, terrible things we’d do to them.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

“I’m not going to do that, child. That wouldn’t be conducive to making you a better person. As a personal preference and a professional preference too, I like to take a more rehabilitative approach.”

She placed her hand on Ewan’s chest.

He blinked and she was gone.

The light flickered and dimmed.

The door burst open and water rushed in.

Ewan didn’t struggle. He knew what this was.

It’s just like what happened with the witch… this feeling. None of this is real.

But the bone-chilling water felt real. The sense of impending doom sent his instinct on overdrive, yelling at him to break free and escape. Ewan told his instincts to shut up. He refused to struggle, even when the water met his lips, even though he could feel the weight of the water push against his body. His body begged him to escape, to find a place to breathe.

He told himself it wasn’t real, but most of his mind was convinced that illusion was reality, so he gasped for air, the water rushing into his mouth, down his throat, and into his body, crushing him from the inside out.

He saw the shadows swim at the corners of his eyes, slowly encroaching on him until he was back in pitch darkness.

And then he woke up in a coughing fit, still bound to the rack. His body was drenched in cold sweat, and his eyes were delirious from the experience of having slowly drowned to death.

“You’ve got spunk, kid. I like that, but I wonder…”

Chlo walked around Ewan, going in and out of his view, the light casting shadows over her face, so that she looked friendly and menacing at the same time.

“How long can your mind keep up? You can tell yourself it’s not real, but it won’t stop the feeling of, well, drowning.”

Ewan tried to break free, but the bonds refused to break.

Chlo traced her fingers across his chest and walked out of view again.

“You’ll still feel the water crush your lungs, so the slow and painful death you experience might as well be real.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

But she was already gone, and the cascading water broke through the door, flooding into the small room, quickly rising above his legs, his chest, and neck.

As his watery grave drowned him, Ewan desperately thought of how he would get out of this one.

A black line bisected the egg-shell white walls of the apartment. The black spilled towards the lower half, while the upper half remained completely white, without any decoration save for an image of jellyfish emerging from a supernova and descending into a field of wheat.

A naked woman with her breasts, thighs and legs soaked in chocolate, sat on the kitchen bar. Sinking her teeth into a slice of chocolate cake she had in her right hand, she inspected a body on the ground, a young man riddled with holes, lying in a pool of his own blood.

That somebody was Ewan.

He opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet.

“Sorry, but the cake is only for me.”

“Are you part of the illusion?”

She set the cake on the counter. “Does this banging body look like an illusion to you?”

Ewan tried to keep his eyes on her face or her short brown hair, but they gravitated toward her sensual curves and toned stomach.

“No need to feel guilty for sneaking a peak. You’re on the brink of dying, after all. It would be a shame not to gaze upon a lovely body one last time.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Esther, the one at the end of all things, the mighty and terrifying reaper of death herself.”

“I always assumed you’d be a spooky skeleton in a robe,”

“That was the old guy, but we’re not here to talk about him, or even me,” and she pointed at him, the chocolate dripping off her body. “We’re here to talk about you.”

“Sure, why not? I could use a break from the torture,”

“I mean… you’re still being tortured. You, sir, are on the brink of dying, desperately hanging on by a thread. I’m honestly impressed. I could sense you at the edge of the abyss, refusing to die, so I figured I’d drop in and see what you were all about.”

“Are you my benevolent patron that’ll help me overcome my adversity?”

“I could be, if we could come to an agreement, that is.”

Ewan took a moment to think, and in doing so he remembered what Vance had told him.

“By any chance, would you be asking me for half my lifespan?”

The evil shone in her eyes. The room became colder than anything he’d ever experienced before, and Ewan felt like an ant struggling against a hurricane.

“Half your remaining life would be a good place to start,”

“I’ll pass.”

Esther gasped in surprise, like a person who had never been rejected before.

Ewan stood his ground, fully expecting something terrible, but the flaying sense of dread dissipated, and the room became somewhat normal again. He allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“Don’t you wanna see Iona again?”

Ewan froze, his confidence cracking.

How does she know?

Esther pretended to cry. “I love you. I’m so happy to have been…”

Her eyes locked with Ewan, and he stared at her in horror.

She knew.

She knew what he had said before he died.

“How the fuck do you know about that?’

She placed her hands over where a human heart would be, smiling as if the entire situation were a delicacy to her. “You humans can be so precious. The lengths that some of you go through for each other. It can be enough to stir even a heart as cold as mine.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. But I’m not making a deal with you. I’ll find another way.”

“And what if there is no other way?”

“Then we’ll renegotiate,”

“I won’t be renegotiating. You either give me half your lifespan, or I give you no deal at all.”

“Esther… what’s the point of going back to the woman I love, if I’m cutting the life I have with her in half?”

“But what good is a full life without the loving embrace of a lover to begin with? Especially with a passionate woman like Iona?” Esther ran her hands over her body. “Oh yes, what an exciting relationship you’ve had.”

“How much do you know about me?”

Esther stopped what she was doing and walked up to him so that they were about an arm's length apart. “I know your entire history, from your humble beginning, and all the way until your life ended. It’s one of the perks of being me. However, there is one savory detail that eludes me.”

“That being?”

“How did you end up in this world?”

Hearing her say that amused him. “So you don’t know everything about me. That’s good to know.”

“There must be a considerably powerful force at work, to keep that piece of information hidden from me.”

Ewan walked over to the bar and pulled out the seat that he sat at before Adam murdered him. He sat down, making sure to face Esther. “Would you be willing to trade a secret for a secret?’

How fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do something like this.”

Esther walked over to the other side of the bar and pulled out a seat. She tapped the counter once and a pentagram etched itself into existence, burning a dark purple. Ewan watched as two glasses emerged from the pentagram, magically filling themselves with a smoky brown liquid.

She slid a glass his way and the pentagram fizzled from existence.

“As a sign of goodwill to you,” she said. “I’ll let you know that there are multiple ways for you to get home, but I won’t tell you what those methods are, nor will I help you achieve those methods should you figure them out yourself. However, if at some point you change your mind and strike a deal with me—which includes a few additional stipulations that we’d talk about—then I’d be more than happy to support your journey back home.”

Ewan didn’t fully trust the drink that Esther conjured for him, but he figured that if the naked lady covered in chocolate really wanted him gone, she’d have done it already. He brought the drink to his lips and took a hefty sip.

It tasted like a drink that he’d used to have with his friends, mezcal with a dash of guava, lime and pineapple juice, delicately infused with habanero bitters. He felt his body relax, the alcohol moving through his system like a smooth poison. It was at that moment that he took in the surreality of his body being filled with holes, and yet no blood spilled from him. He was warm, despite being a corpse, and his mind was at ease, despite knowing that on the outside his physical form was being tortured.

And across from him, was a person who identified as the personification of death in this world.

“If I tell you about how I came to this world, will you tell me how I can get stronger, without having to rely on you or another god?”

“Absolutely.”

Ewan took a moment to discern if she was lying, but he couldn’t get a read on her. The way she looked at him was as if they had developed a vulnerable and trusting relationship. There was no hostility in her eyes, but he also knew that she’d be able to tear him to pieces, if she wanted to.

“Okay… so this is going to sound a bit crazy, but when I died, my soul was brought to some sort of spiritual prison. I met some lady there and she basically told me that she could bring me here, to your world, so long as I made an agreement with her. I agreed to her term, and she used her magic to bring me here. I woke up at some lake, and began my new life. Now I’m figuring it out, day by day.”

“How intriguing. Do you mind telling me what her name was?”

“Fantasy. Tall, attractive blonde woman with red eyes.”

“Fantasy huh,” and she swirled the drink in her glass. “How much do you think I need to pay her for a lap dance?”

Ewan blushed, and the image of Fantasy grinding on Esther’s lap flashed into his mind. Esther noticed this and smiled, like she was happy that her simple words could provoke anything from another person.

“I’m not aware of any prior gods with that name,” Esther said. “But you’ve told me some interesting information. As a god, we’re always at the top, and most of us look forward with boredom in our eyes. To live a life where there’s nothing to surpass can be a dreadful thing… That’s why secrets are so appealing. We love that which we don’t know. We hunger for it, for that sense of uncertainty…”

“So, if I’m understanding you correctly, you like secrets because it gives you a challenge?”

“That’s right,”

“Is that why you prefer talking things out? You could force me to make a contract with you… I’m not about to win a fight with a god.”

“I’ve never been the type of woman to force anything on anyone,” Esther said. “But I suppose that is a good way to look at it, at least for me.”

“You know that lady I met… she told me I wasn’t the only one. Maybe you’ve already met some of them.”

Esther drank until her cup was half full. “It’s possible, but I doubt it. You have to have a certain affinity with a god in order for them to really, as some from your world would put it, vibe with them.”

Ewan finished his drink. When he was done, it magically refilled. He watched in wonder as that happened, curious to know if he could attain such a power for himself.

“But if they all died, and they were sent to this world like I was, then they would’ve seen death like I did. Shouldn’t that have generated somewhat of an affinity between you and them?”

“It would have made meeting me possible, but I also like my people with a strong sense of conviction. If they lacked that characteristic, they wouldn’t be a good fit for me.”

But Fantasy told me that people needed strong wills not to be assimilated. Could strong-willed people without a strong sense of conviction exist? Or maybe, this person in front of me is lying…

Esther finished her drink and waited for the cup to refill. When it did, she drank it until it was half empty again.

Ewan drank his entire drink and placed it down, the liquid bubbling back into being until it was just beneath the rim.

“It could also be possible that another god snatched them up,” Esther said. “We aren’t omniscient. We’re not those types of gods. Another possibility would be that they had a strong sense of conviction coming in, but something happened to change their outlook on life. It happens. People change.”

“Hmmm,”

“And while we’re on the topic of change,” Esther continued. “Your body has already undergone some rather significant changes.”

Ewan had brought his drink to his lips as he heard her say that. He set the glass back down, listening intently.

Esther leaned forward. “You met a man named Vance, who told you that your Ki, left unregulated, would tear you apart. Every human has the ability to harness their Ki, at least in this world, but that’s only made possible if the human were to undergo some sort of extreme trauma.”

She pointed to Ewan, and he took a moment to let that sink in.

The holes in his body and the blood on his shirt.

The life he had now, and the life that was stolen from him.

He felt the anger surge through him, like a violent tempest rampaging through his heart.

“You’ve got dangerous eyes, I like that about you.”

Hearing her words snapped him out of it, but the rage was still there, like a fire refusing to die out.

“People experience trauma throughout their life, some come close to dying, and some even take the lives of others,” Esther said. “These days, there aren’t many people who have died and come back to life. But for a human that comes from a godless world, that sort of trauma is unprecedented. It’s no wonder why you have such a potent Ki. In a pure circumstantial sort of way, you are very special, Ewan. The trauma a person has endured has a very positive correlation with how strong a person’s Ki is, at least initially. The only catch is that even though you’ve got a lot of potential, it’s useless without a proper mentor. So, if you manage to build a relationship with Vance, it may prove to be very beneficial to you.”

“You’ve been good to me,” Ewan said. “Thank you.”

“I’m hoping you’ll be good to me, too,” and she raised her glass for a toast.

“Cheers, Ewan. Let this go to our new and budding relationship.”

Ewan raised his glass and brought it against hers. They stared each other in the eyes for a few moments, and the scenery around them began to melt away, like water splashing over paint that hadn’t set.

“You’ll be waking up soon,” Esther said. “Try not to go dying on me, okay?”

“I’ll be seeing you.”

They finished their drinks, and Ewan closed his eyes for but a single moment, feeling the world around him change.

Ewan woke up back in the cell, his body drenched in a cold sweat, but the delirious desperation in his eyes was gone. He looked like a new man, ready to take on the world, or at least that’s how he felt for the first few seconds before the fatigue smashed his body like a sledgehammer. He wanted to fall to the ground, but the leather straps kept him bound.

His vision blurred for a moment, and when it readjusted he saw a fair-skinned woman with brilliant blue eyes and short, wavy blonde hair, sitting on a small metallic stool just meters away from him. She wore a bewitchingly cute outfit that did little to conceal how stacked she was.

She smiled at him, tender and sweet. “Did you enjoy your little nap?”

His eyes drifted to her breast, then her stomach, and then to the floor. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, bringing what little energy he had to meet her gaze.

“Who are… you? Where’d the other one go?”

She lifted her right leg up and crossed it over her left leg. “You don’t seem too noteworthy, but your mental fortitude is something to note. How’d you keep your mind together so well?”

Ewan felt weak, but his eyes smoldered with confidence. “You don’t get further in life by giving up… but… if you’re gonna keep torturing me, then get it over with. I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve done.”

She walked over to him, until her face was just an inch away from his. “What I do to you is your choice. I’d like to make a deal with you, boy. Care to hear me out?”

“If it gives me…” Ewan had to take a moment to catch his breath, his body beaten from the mental strain of being tortured for an extended period of time. “...If it gives me a break from being tortured, I’ll gladly hear you out.”

“I love that answer,” she followed up by caressing his face. “Keep up with the good attitude, and you and I will get along just fine.”

Ewan held his gaze on the woman’s eyes.

“I want you to work with me,” she said. “I could use someone like you. We could use someone like you.”

“You’d hire a guy that assaulted your coworker? I know he’s a piece of shit, but he’s still one of yours, isn’t he?”

She placed a finger on his lips. “I’m not asking you to be part of the law. I want your help in killing people.”

“What kind of people would I be killing?”

She backed away, her face pleasantly surprised. “Oh goodness! Your enthusiasm is making me feel a special sort of way.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. If I don’t like what you have to say, then I’d rather you torture me.”

She gave Ewan a cruel, seductive smile. She reached out and grabbed his face. “You should never threaten a woman with a good time.” Ewan smiled at her, his defiance at this world overriding the fear he hid in his heart.

She brought her face closer to his. “But as for your inquiry, you would kill whoever was assigned to you. You might kill someone who rapes children or someone that devotes their entire life to helping others.”

Ewan looked at her with what could only be described as disdain. “You can go ahead and keep torturing me.”

The woman's eyes grew dark. “You were doing so well. Why the disappointing answer?”

“Killing good people is wrong.”

She brought herself close enough to where her forehead touched Ewan’s, her eyes delving into his soul. “How arrogant a man must be, to assert that it’s morally responsible, to kill one type of person over another—but I like your confidence. And since I like you so much, why don’t you reconsider?”

Ewan tried to break free, making her stumble back a bit, but he couldn’t escape the straps.

“Oh my. You seem a bit upset. I’ll give you a moment to cool down and think about your answer.”

“I’m not your fucking slave,” Ewan growled, his eyes growing dark with a seething retribution.

“I’m not asking you to be. You don’t have to suffer like this. Chlo was impressed by your conviction. She saw potential in you. Let us cultivate that potential.”

Despite his situation, Ewan took a moment to force his emotions into submission. “Nothing you do is going to change my mind.”

She sighed, but she still met him with a smile. “I admire your resolve—so how about this? You either work with me or we kill Hilda and her dad.”

Ewan’s heart skipped a beat and the world came crashing down around him, his breath leaving his body like he was a popped balloon. He couldn’t even be angry at that point, as the sheer horror of someone threatening the people who helped him silenced every other conceivable emotion.

“I’ll kill Ram, too.”

“They’re strangers to me,” Ewan lied almost as naturally as he breathed. “You’ll need better leverage.”

“You don’t mean that. You care about those people, even though you hardly know them,”

Ewan stared at her dead in the eyes, keeping his best poker face, feeling his heart steady its pace despite the desperate situation he was in. He swallowed his fear but not his rage.

“You know… I admire your courage, so out of respect to you, I won’t kill anyone,” and she brought her lips to his right ear, bringing her sweet voice to a hushed whisper while her hands pressed against his chest. “I’ll torture them instead. I’ll be extra careful not to break their minds or bodies. I’ll draw their miserable lives out until the bitter end. And it’ll all be your fault, Ewan, all your fault for walking away from me.”

Ewan actually felt some tears well in the corners of his eyes. “Why…? What good does my life hold for you? I’m not an assassin. I haven’t been trained to kill people.”

“But I know that you're a fighter. I can see it when I look into your eyes. You've been fighting most your life, haven't you?”

Ewan only glared at her.

“But what’s more important is your mentality, the conviction you have for yourself and others.”

She didn’t say anything else at first. She stepped back and crossed her arms, as if she were debating telling Ewan something.

Ewan looked at her and wondered what life circumstances led her to be the person she was today.

“Jacob is a pest,” she said coldly. “His disorderly conduct is one thing, but he also has a very long history of beating women. Once upon a time, there was a kind and thoughtful herbalist who lived in town. She took a liking to him, told everyone that beneath all his rage and aggression, he was a loving man.”

She looked as if her words brought her to the past, the way she stared beyond Ewan and not at him.

“That woman is gone now. She killed herself, and yet the world continued as if nothing had happened.”

Ewan could see the rage fester in her eyes, and he wondered if it was similar to the eyes Iona would see when he was angry, a person angry at the world around them, angry at things out of his control.

“Everyone would always talk about how something needs to be done,” she said. “But no one ever acted. I always hated it, living around people that want change but don’t do anything.”

“So why didn’t you take him out?”

The woman winced, like he had slapped her across the face.

“Jacob is one of us,” she said begrudgingly. “Unless he betrays The Dark Covenant, we aren't allowed to kill one of our own. At some point in the future, we'll have you sign the same magically binding contract.”

“So he's also... an assassin?”

“He’s more like a hired muscle, but yeah, he’s one of us. That’s why Chlo gave you a beating when she first met you. Normally, Jacob should’ve been able to lay you out.”

Was I using my Ki unconsciously…? I wonder…

“Out of curiosity… what would’ve happened to you if you broke your contract? Would you die?”

“No, nothing like that. But the entire organization would know of your betrayal, and that’s not conducive to living a long and prospering life. Call me selfish, but as much as I want Jacob dead, I can’t do so at the sacrifice of my own future.”

“Why didn’t you just get someone else to kill Jacob? Unless there’s a clause in your contract that states that you can’t indirectly kill him, your problem could’ve been solved by involving a third party.”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

“Common sense, really.”

“Don’t get snippy with me, young man,” and she caressed his face. “I could still torture you to death.”

Without really meaning it, Ewan said, “I apologize for my outburst.”

She smiled and took a seat on the stool. “The thing is, we’ve already tried the indirect method. Chlo would send him on dangerous missions all the time, but he survived by sheer, stupid luck.”

“You could’ve saved yourself the trouble by having someone else kill him,” Ewan said. “But it is what it is. I’m not here to tell you or your people how to run things, but let that be a friendly suggestion for the future.”

“You and I have been on the same page, but Chlo is an old-fashioned woman, you see. She likes to do things her way or the highway. But recently she’s come to be more open to what others have to say,”

Ewan took a moment to think. “You're going to have me kill the guy, aren't you?”

“You catch on fast.”

She got up and undid the straps that kept him bound, starting with his feet and then his hands. Ewan almost immediately fell forward, his body wracked with exhaustion. She caught him and held him gingerly.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. You were under horrific conditions all day. Take a moment to rest in my arms.”

Ewan did as he was told, but part of him felt guilty for doing so. After he had enough time to rest, he tenderly pulled away from her embrace.

She smiled at him, sweet and lovely. “Are you ready?”

“You and I are about to find out,”

The young woman looked like she wanted to say something, but she led them out of the room instead.

She led them to a spacious room that looked more like a college dormitory than a prison cell. Something that looked like a window radiated a faint, white light, and there were shelves hanging above the wall, just above a twin-sized bed that had Jacob bound with several leather straps across his body.

Jacob was asleep, breathing softly.

“Why is his room so much nicer than mine?” Ewan asked.

“You’re an outsider who assaulted an officer of the law,” she said. “Of course, you’d get the shitty room.”

She handed him a knife, a wicked blade attached to a beautifully carved hit.

“I’ll let you borrow this,”

Ewan took the blade. “Where were you hiding this?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ewan looked at the blade, an intense focus in his eyes.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” he said. “But I had a knife when Chlo took me out. Am I getting that back?”

“You’ll get your weapon back after this.”

“Okay,” and he walked over to Jacob. “Shouldn’t I… be wearing gloves?”

“We just need to know that you have what it takes. We’ll deal with cleanup this time around… and by the way, if you need to take a moment to adjust your mentality, that’s okay with me. Taking another person’s life—”

Ewan placed one hand on Jacob’s face and slashed his throat open. Jacob woke up, his horror muffled by Ewan’s hand, and he struggled with no success. His blood poured profusely, leaking onto the sheets and painting it red.

Ewan observed the confusion, shock, and hate in the other man’s eyes, but his heart felt not an ounce of sorrow over what he was doing. There was not even a spark of empathy for the man whose life he was taking.

The woman brought a finger to her mouth, and bit down lightly, her body tingling from the excitement.

This man deserves what I'm doing to him, Ewan thought to himself.

Jacob struggled for freedom, but there was no escape.

Back home, I should have killed Adam. Despite Iona's protest, despite what Ana had to say, I should've done what needed to be done.

Before long, Jacob was dead.

Ewan whipped the knife to the side, and a ribbon of blood splattered against the wall. He handed the woman the knife. “We done here?”

She took her blade and kneeled down, lifting her garments up so that she could secure the weapon to a small holster on her leg. “You mentioned that you didn’t mind ‘delivering justice,’ but you killed him so easily.”

“I used to be a lawyer,” Ewan said. “And back where I came from, the death penalty had become the preferred method for dealing with people. I had to get comfortable with the idea of people dying. What I’m doing now, and I suppose what I will be doing, isn’t too far removed from my old life… it’s just a more direct approach.”

The woman saw the light shine from behind him, casting a sort of silhouette that obscured his face but revealed his frown.

“So, what now?” he asked

“I'll take you out using a secret entrance, and then you can swing by to my place to get cleaned up. Afterward, I’ll show you around, and we’ll even get something to eat.”

“Aren’t you going to make me sign that contract?”

“We're going to put you on a probationary period for the time being. If you can continue proving yourself, we'll make you an official member.”

“Thanks,” Ewan said, feigning a friendly disposition. “I’ll have to return the favor one day.”

She brought herself closer to him, wrapping herself around his arm as if she were his girlfriend.

Ewan was too tired to push her away.

“If you treat me right, I’ll treat you right.”

“I don't even know your name,” Ewan said.

“You can call me Alice,” she said happily. “It's a pleasure to have you, Ewan.”

Ewan didn’t say a word. He simply let Alice lead him as if he were a puppet.