Burdock’s 7th birthday arrives, but he refuses to tell anyone what class he picked. I’m not sure about the secrecy, though. Anyone could just climb seven flights of stairs up the magically growing tower and look at his magically updating name plaque.

I might just make the trip up again sometime out of pure nosiness and also because I still haven’t figured out what his mom’s name is yet. I’ve been using my time-outs to try to unlock a meditation skill of some sort. I’m always getting into things I’m not supposed to because I don’t care if I get in trouble.

“What’s your class?” I ask.

“I don’t wanna say,” Burdock says.

“Why not?”

“Because people will expect me to be a Hearthkeeper and I don’t wanna be a Hearthkeeper.”

Burdock has two older sisters. Daisy is twelve, and Lily is fifteen. Lily is at the Crux Academy for most of the year, but will be getting back to Corwen before the Harvest Festival at the end of September and will be staying until the New Year. Three full months of a break, lucky her.

“Hey, kids,” Mom says. “Wanna see a skyship? The older kids are about to get home for the holidays.”

“Skyship!” I exclaim in an excited almost-two-year-old voice.

Juniper coos, probably not understanding our words but taking in our cheer and excitement clearly. Mom picks her up, and I toddle after them out of the Hearth.

“The skyship from Crux Academy will be docking at the gate tower,” Mom says.

“Where is Cruck Acama-dee?” I ask.

Mom chuckles. “Crux Academy is in the domain of Crux. That’s another one of the floaty bits of land that float around the glowy bits in the sky. You’ve seen Zenith up there, yeah? Crux is lower in the sky than Tempest so we can’t see it from here. The skymote, Tiganna, is close so it’s super bright, way brighter than those far away little skymotes up there.”

“Wow,” I say.

“Sometime I’ll take you kids to the edge so you can see the whole system,” Mom says. “Er, most of the system, anyway. Can’t see Sorrow from here, either. Thorn’s in the way and it’s huge. Oh, look, there it is!”

I gaze off in the direction she’s pointing. Silhouetted against the orange sky, a vessel with four wing-sails is coming in to dock. The gate tower is only half the height of the central tower, but it has a skydock attached to it with room for a skyship to dock.

As it comes closer, I get a better look at it. It has a hull shaped like a sailboat, painted school bus yellow and sporting rows of square windows. The four sails, positioned at the four diagonals, are made of some sort of light blue silken material too smooth and thin to be canvas. The sails shift and furl as the vessel comes to a stop at the tower’s dock. Remaining floating in the air as if it were the sea, the skyship extends a gangplank to the dock.

Several people get off the ship and head down into the tower, but I can’t make out any faces from the ground even if I could remember all the relatives I have met briefly as a baby.

Burdock, Daisy, and their mom are waiting for Lily, who approaches from the tower with a bag over her shoulder and a wild pink hairstyle that manages to scream “15-year-old” in a way that somehow transcends time and space.

Aunt What’s-her-name goes up and hugs Lily, who silently replies with that “embarrassed teenager being hugged by Mom” expression on her face.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again. How were your classes? You didn’t get into too much trouble, did you?”

They head into the Hearth, and my mom takes us for a closer look at the skyship. After climbing the central tower, she doesn’t even ask if I can manage the gate tower. The skyship would probably look more magnificent if it didn’t look paradoxically like a flying school bus.

“You kids boarding or just gawking?” asks a feminine voice with an odd flange to it.

There’s a giant spider the size of an adult human sitting on the deck of the skyship. I squeak in surprise and hide behind my mom’s legs. Juniper starts crying.

“Sorry, forgot to mention the aranea!” Mom says, comforting the baby in her arms. “It’s okay, kids. She’s not a monster.”

I blink and take a closer look. Sure enough, rather than the red aura I’d expect of a monster like a devil-goat, this giant spider has a lively violet aura around it. Or her, I suppose I should say.

“Ararranny-ah?” I repeat slowly, peeking out from behind my mom.

“Aranea,” Mom repeats. “They’re people like us. They just have eight limbs instead of four.”

“Nice to meet you,” the spider says. “But I do have work to do so if you’re just here to gawk, please stay out of the way.”

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Juniper slowly calms down, and we watch the aranea work for a few minutes. The way she handles the ropes makes me think they might be made of aranea silk and not any sort of canvas. Like a master puppeteer, she gives the strings a few tugs, and the silken sails unfurl. The skyship pulls away from the dock and soars on to its next destination.

“Wow,” I breathe.

With the skyship gone, we head back to the Hearth. I want to grill the older kids on everything they’re willing to tell me about the academy, but unfortunately, I’m not really up to complicated sentences yet and the teenagers aren’t terribly interested in indulging a baby. So I just sit in the hearth and listen to them gossip instead.

“I’m still Basic rank and I’m already twelve!” Daisy bemoans. “I’m so worried I’m not going to make it to Elite in time.”

“Well, I didn’t make Elite until I turned nineteen,” Mom says. “I didn’t go to a fancy school. I went out delving dungeons instead.”

Daisy pouts. “But I really want to go to Crux Academy! And you’re still only Elite and you’re old.”

“I’m twenty-five,” Mom grouses. “I can still catch up.”

“I don’t want to have to catch up,” Daisy says. “I want to be a great Wizard and I’ll never get to be a Wizard if I don’t reach Elite before I turn fourteen! You’re a Sorcerer and that’s not the same.”

“Keep collecting Deeds and I’m sure you’ll make it if you’re determined enough,” her mom says. “Study hard and don’t slack on practicing your skills.”

Either getting to Elite must not be very hard, or the children in Corwen Hearth are very determined if we have so many of our youths attending a prestigious academy.

Daisy gets into the bags of the students to swipe their books to read when they’re not looking.

“Daisy!” her mom says. “Did you take your sister’s books? And your cousins’?”

“I’m a [Scholarly Child]!” Daisy protests. “I have to read books and I’ve already read all the books in the village several times!”

“The proper thing to do is ask politely, young lady,” her mom says.

I sympathize and I’m already making plans (however premature they might be) to get into Crux Academy. The way I see it, it’s never too early to start planning your build and accumulating experience. Of course, “before I even know what all the requirements are” might still be too early.

Juniper, Willow, and Griffin are happily playing on the floor, completely uncaring that the older kids are stressing about their futures. I should really join them. I slide off the bench and crawl over to play.

Over on this side of the hearth, a teenage boy is talking about how one of his classmates got possessed.

“Wouldn’t that be awful, some long-dead ghost taking control of your body?” he says. “Nobody even noticed anything at first, but he acted just off enough for someone to check if his Soul attribute was unlocked.”

A colored block clumsily slips out of my hand as I overhear this.

“What did they do to him?” asks an aunt.

“Oh, they killed him, of course,” the boy says. “Crux doesn’t play around with dark magic and nobody wants the dead around. Forbidden knowledge is forbidden for a reason. Can you imagine if it had been one of our cousins?”

“Ugh,” the aunt shudders. “The thought of a ghost parading around in the skin of a child is horrifying.”

I grab another block and force myself to stay calm and act like a normal baby.

Skill acquired: Discipline (Composure) Your Subterfuge (Acting) skill has increased to level 2.

Just a normal baby. Just a normal baby. Not some dead guy from a place called Earth. And I definitely don’t know anything about anything I’m not supposed to know about.

I need to find out more about this somehow. Like whether they include reincarnation in that. Because I’ve been in this body since it was seven days old, so no one ever knew what Drake Corwen would have been like if he hadn’t been me. Then again, what would happen if I leaned on my Soul skills and kept bringing up memories of more lives than my first one? Would I wind up “possessed” by some other version of me, maybe?

I suppose there’s a risk every time I use [Recollection]. Are we just the sum of our memories? I feel like if I know what the five million other versions of me did, I would not be surprised at anything they did and would probably have done the same were circumstances identical.

There’s got to be a way to hide my Soul stat. Either there isn’t anyone around here that can scan my status screen, or no one is as eager to kill me for it as they might be in Crux.

I love my new family. I don’t want them to look at me like they’ve seen a ghost.

I act normal and laugh like an innocent, playful child. I’ve been looking at everyone else’s auras but never thought to turn my psychic vision upon my own.

My aura is dark, black as the crystalline sky in December. Anyone with [Clairvoyance] would know what I am at a glance. Except, anyone with [Clairvoyance] also needs to have a Soul stat.

Corwen told me about my potential as a necromancer and psychic with the cheer of a computer that isn’t concerned about the social ramifications. Corwen, are you listening? Are you always listening to my thoughts?

Corwen Hello, Drake! I’m always listening! What can I help you with?

Little bit creepy but I don’t think I care. I’m pretty sure my bedroom TV remote was listening to me, too, so whatever. Corwen, are any of my family members going to kill me if they find out I’m reincarnated?

Corwen Certainly not! If any Hearth member were to deliberately harm another, they would be expelled from the Hearth.

I suppose exile is a serious punishment when there’s annual monster swarms. But is that the case even if someone did do something heinous and criminal?

Corwen Of course. The Hearth comes before all else. You are expected to protect your Hearthmates above all else, even if their own actions lead them into trouble, and they are likewise expected to protect you. If someone’s behavior causes too much trouble, they may be confined to the Hearth for their own safety, but must not be harmed.

I understand. But what if they considered me to not really be a member of the Hearth because I was ‘possessed’ or something?

Corwen You are a member of this Hearth. I did not incarnate you by mistake. I paid quite a bit of essence for you. So long as you do not betray me, I will make sure your Hearthmates do not mistake you for an invader.

I see. That’s how it is, then. You bought me like a hero unit. I find myself giggling aloud, baby-like, at the thought. I should probably be upset, but I don’t really have it in me to be mad about this. I’m happy to be alive and looking forward to having fun delving dungeons. I’ll try not to disappoint.