Alan awakened beside the Strangey Town clouds, falling, blood still fiercely leaked from his abdomen, with giggling winds whispering in his ears. The dragon’s claw marks were so deep, it looked like he was being gripped by an invisible beast.

All of the misty faces grimaced and pointed down, begging him to look. And when he did, his breath caught in his chest.

“Ahh!” He flailed once seeing a model city far, far below him.

The portal he’d emerged from zlooped shut at his back.

As his cheeks rippled from angry air, he remembered his first days in the colorful realm – slipstreams would save him.

He concentrated hard on locating them, recalling that the winds could become visible if only he focused on them.

Focus, Alan. He did his best to calm himself, hearing the clouds gasp as little spots of visible winds began to form in his vision. It’s only been weeks since he left, but already, he felt infinitely more experienced than on his first day.

Blue Saro burst from his hip, straight into his dagger. Memories of where he just ported from shot to the front of his mind. Neesha, Gregorian… Had he abandoned them and sentenced them to death by escaping the dragon?

Alan grunted as he swam toward an incoming stream and grasped onto it. The rushing acceleration of being jerked sideways told him he succeeded. He was on a sure path now… At least he hoped.

“Durger, are you with me?”

“Always at your side.” The pun went over Alan’s head.

“Look, down there.” Alan pointed with his free hand, his body zigging one way then the next on a jerky path toward the town square. “What the hell is that?”

A massive uneven portal looked like a rip in the fabric of space. Massive beasts stampeded out, purple fog clinging to their bodies.

“By the dogsbane – Alan, I fear that’s the rift Lucius and Flint were called back to defend.”

Alan squinted as he descended, able to make out more of what was going on. A giant wall of ice was being rammed by the Ojin beasts, and Flint echoed hymns high atop it – spell chanting, probably. Once Alan understood what was happening, he realized the thundering booms weren’t only the beasts crashing into Flint’s conjuring, but Flint’s all-carrying voice too.

Enchanted arrows flew high over the wall at Flint’s command. Warriors leapt by his side to take on the beasts head on, and the war-cries sent goosebumps lining Alan’s arms.

“From the frying pan to the fire.” Alan groaned, glancing at his deep wound. “Durger, how am I still conscious with these wounds?”

“Your home realm replenishes your Saro and soothes the wounds of Ojin. But beware, you are not immortal.” Durger tugged at his side. “You must find a Healer type, and quickly.”

“Kind of hard while I’m in the sky.”

When Alan inhaled deeply, his abdomen burned, and his ribs shifted as if shattered. Yet, he still felt a powerful sense of urgency to help. Repaying Flint and Lucius meant everything to him, and if he could succeed in pushing back the rift… he had to seek Neesha out in Ojin again.

One thing at a time, he told himself, narrowing his eyes and focusing on the town square he was headed toward.

His hair blew in every direction as he whipped on a downward angle, gaining more speed than if in free fall. He remembered this feeling, and the wooden statue of the boy in a headdress at the center of town.

It came closer. Closer.

Alan shut his eyes tight, his heart in his stomach for fear he wouldn’t slow.

Thankfully, he did.

“Hup. Hup. Hup. Hup.” Two burly, balding men jogged an unconscious woman toward one of the medieval houses.

When Alan touched down gingerly on the brick cul-de-sac, he collapsed from loss of blood. It was an odd feeling – his Saro filtered through his veins like a rushing river, yet his limbs were numb.

“Hup. Hup. Hup. Hup.” The voices came closer, until the bright Strangey Town sun was blotted out by two huge silhouettes.

Alan did his best to shield his eyes and make out who was peering over him.

“Where did you come from, warrior?” one of them asked.

“Come did you, warrior, where!” the other one said, earning a swift smack from the initial man.

I hate this place, Alan thought to himself.

“Ojin.” Alan grabbed at his wound, and before he knew it, was hoisted onto a stretcher, the two bald men carrying him on either side.

“Ojin? Why weren’t you recalled to Strangey Town? It’s all hands on deck!” the first man said.

Alan jerked away when the other man whispered more out of sequence words in his ear. “What the hell? Urgh. Where are you taking me?” He swatted him away.

“Apologies. That’s my shadow. I’m quite new to the healing game, and this world in general. I’m in training, you see.” The balding man peered over his shoulder. “I’m Mugly. I’ll be escorting you to get fixed up right away.”

Alan recognized Lucius’ Orange Saro cave as he passed it, then gaped at the huge medieval style house packed with white clay bricks and bursting with varying Saro from inside. The open windows flashed different colors every few seconds, followed by crazy shouts.

“Sounds busy in there.” Alan winced.

“Oh yes, Madam Sema runs an incredible operation. You’ll be in good hands.”

Alan gritted his teeth as he struggled to see past Mugly. A Wizard cursed as a Healer tickled her hands over a wound, unleashing blessed Yellow Saro from her fingertips all the way.

“Be still, Mis’tagen. I must extract the poison. Be still!” She yanked at his grungy hair to keep him flat on the bed.

A sharp turn sent Alan down a hallway of similar rooms.

“Hup. Hup. Hup. Hup.”

Alan realized that Mugly kept saying those words to keep his shadow in order. It’s not like he could say that out of sequence.

“This is intense,” Alan whispered, glancing at each healing room as they blurred past.

“A Healer’s life is not for everyone. Seeing the most powerful warriors brought to their knees does something to the allure.” Durger frowned.

Alan eyed his hip. “You sound like you have some experience in that department.”

“I do. A long, long time ago.”

Mugly whipped Alan almost off the stretcher when he turned into an empty room. He placed his side down gently, but the shadow dropped his side so sharply, Alan flopped headfirst onto the ground, rattling him back into a daze.

“Oh, dammit, shadow!” Mugly slapped him, then helped Alan up.

The shadow started crying on the spot. “Shadow, oh.”

Alan rubbed the back of his head as he was hoisted onto a bed with cosmos-style sheets. He felt like he was a kid again in some pediatrician’s office.

“Sema will be right in to assess you, then you’ll be assigned a Healer to help heal those wounds. Stay well, citizen of Strangey Town. May Mujungo watch over you, and may you stop the terrible rift once you’re able. Come, shadow! Hup. Hup. Hup. Hup.”

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The two men bowled out of the room, while other apprentices rushed fighters along nearby. Alan felt guilty now. These rooms were being taken up by people defending the town, while he’d just made a critical misstep in Ojin. Now he took up space.

A woman with a green-leaking wand and an overly tall hat bustled into the room with narrowed eyes. “Title. Title!” she jarred Alan to attention.

“Uhh, Low Merchant of Strangey Town.”

“Frogshit!” She lifted him by the chin using her wand. “Highest Title! I don’t have time for games, Merchant.”

“Oh.” His vision swam terribly. “I thought you meant my currently equipped Titl—”

She slapped him lightly in the face.

“God Merchant of Strangey Town.”

She gasped and started petting the spot she slapped. “Goodness, me. It’s you. The one Flint paraded on your very first day here – naked but for that leaf. Mmm.”

Alan scrunched his face. He couldn’t tell if she was salivating from the memory or conjuring a spell.

After she finished licking her lips, her eyes widened, scaring Alan back. “Let’s see the wound. Chop. Chop.” She pressed him flat on the planetary bed and traced her wand across his skin.

Pain radiated into his bones, all the way up his spine. He wanted to scream, but kept it together, thinking of Durger’s words. He didn’t want to lose courage. Not yet.

“Not good.”

“What do you mean, not good?” Alan did his best to lift his head.

She hummed as she poked around. “An Orange Saro dragon. A particularly nasty one.”

Blood rushed to Alan’s head. It made him uneasy that she could tell just by looking at a claw mark. Was something happening to him?

“Fiery essence is baked into its claws and unleashed whenever it attacks. Now that the residue latched onto your skin, my dear warrior, it will eat away at your flesh like acid.” She wrinkled her nose as she worked. The bags under her eyes spoke to overnight shifts with no breaks. Yet still, she did what she could to keep spirits up.

She straightened and took a step back to analyze all of Alan.

“Ma’am?” Alan tilted his head, trying not to wince.

“Flint would have me frozen into a sculpture for a thousand years if I didn’t expel this affliction myself. A future Herald of Ojin,” she scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Danamaran! Block Twelve, stat!” she shouted, her voice amplified through her hat.

Another high-hatted woman skidded past the room, grabbing onto the doorframe to pull herself sliding inside. Ice formed under her bare feet, and White Saro puffing from her robe made her cheeks rosy.

“Madam Sema, I have two patients badly poisoned by a Purple Sky-walt. I can only spare a moment.”

“Come, look at this wound. Can you slow it so I can work?”

“Madam,” Danamaran pleads. “One of the wounded is Lises Bloom.”

Sema’s neck muscles tensed, Alan could sense the unease in the room. “Critical?”

“Yes. I must go.”

Sema latched onto her wrist to keep her still, flooding Alan’s heart with guilt. “Spare a minute. You must. Here, carve lines on the outskirts of each mark, and I will handle the rest.”

“But, Madam, Carner needs you in block six. Mada—”

Sema yanked Dana’s hand and pressed it hard on Alan’s belly, making him wince. “Do you feel the Orange? It’s seeping deep to corrode his organs.”

Dana snapped her tongue. “A dragon’s signature. Stand back.” Her wand shined with White Saro, reminding Alan of Flint’s staff, but instead of exploding at the tip, the Saro balled up and melted down to the bottom of her wand. The entire stick shined blindingly bright while she waved it over his abdomen.

Alan’s skin recoiled from the temperature, then burned from the wound.

“Lay still, Merchant,” Sema soothed. “Yes.” She made lapping sounds with her tongue, which gave Alan an uneasy feeling again.

What a strange woman.

As soon as Dana’s wand touched Alan’s flesh, he held back a harrowing scream. The grunt vibrated through him, pain coursing up his neck, radiating through his teeth, and even his ears.

“Counteractive measures, Merchant. Try to relax.” Sema’s hand pressed on Alan’s chest.

Danamaran traced the wand over the outskirts of the claw marks. Alan never imagined he’d be able to withstand such pain.

It hurt more than when he broke his arm after being tossed down a flight of stairs, more than his Origin World death. More than anything he’d ever experienced.

“Still, Merchant. Hold still,” Sema continued to soothe.

“Arrh!” Alan finally let loose a grunt and understood completely why the Wizard he passed getting here was shouting at the top of his lungs. This was nothing like Neesha’s healing touch. Nothing at all.

Chng!

Something chimed in Alan’s head, and when it did, a breath of energy flowed through him.

“There, that’s all I can do for now,” Dana was out of breath.

“Go now, child. Tend to Lises.” Sema pushed her. “You’ve done well. Go.”

As White Saro leaked from her wand and her feet, Dana slid out of the room and down the hall from which she came. Alan wished he could grab her and take her right back to Ojin so he could save Neesha, but his wound wouldn’t let him.

“Argh!” Another wave of fiery bolts struck through his body.

“The process is reversing, Merchant. You mustn’t move.” Her fingertips lit green and waved gently over his abdomen, soothing him for seconds at a time, combating the pain.

“Durger,” Alan whispered through gritted teeth. “How do I call the White? Do I just think of cold from my Origin?”

“Precisely, Sir Alan. Times you were cold. Frigid, even. This will activate the Saro response inside you that you’re looking for. The Colorless in our group had to call upon it in the fiery depths of the orange fog.”

“Will you shut that thing up! I’m trying to concentrate!” Sema opened one angry eye.

Alan nodded, patting Durger twice in thanks, then grabbed his pendant and dove into his memories. Visiting his uncle in Colorado was usually a freezing experience. He went snowboarding with him a few times, and decided to venture off on a black diamond path before he should’ve even left the green.

It was a disaster. The mountain path was so steep and icy, he tumbled for nearly a minute before falling into a ditch. There he laid, yelling against whistling winds for someone to find him. Every inhale stinging his lungs, his hands and feet numb. Yes.

Alan opened his eyes to the crystal pendant showing bright white in all facets. He smirked through the pain, and willed the Saro through his body, making it glow resplendent like misty snow.

Sema’s eyes jolted open. She gasped and took a step back.

The White Saro was soothing like icy hot all over his body, healing him.

“By Mujungo,” Sema’s voice came out as a nervous whisper. “I thought you were of Blue Saro, Merchant?”

Alan shook his head, relishing in the relief of his conjuring. “Colorless,” he spoke softly.

“Too potent for Colorless. By the gods and the fog, Flint was right.”

Boom!

The entire building shook violently, jarring them both to attention.

“Madam!” a voice called from the other room. “One broke past the wall!”

Alan groaned as he sat upright, locking eyes with the Healer.

“No,” she gasped. “The fighters here, they’re in critical condition. They will not survive.” She gritted her teeth and rushed out of the room.

Boom!

The walls shook – dust falling from the ceiling.

Alan groaned again as he pushed off the bed, nearly falling to a knee from the pain. He fought to straighten, then limped toward the rushing Healers scrambling to stabilize their most critical patients. Whatever beast broke through, it was coming closer, the stomping thunder growing loud.

He kept a hand on the clay wall to balance himself, shrinking as a Healer flew past. It felt like the whole foundation would soon cave into itself.

“A Shiva! It’s a Shiva!” a voice bellowed from outside. “Evacuate!”

Alan heard that word before – back in his Origin World. A god, and a creature of myth. Maybe he could help. He seemed to be the only patient able to move at all in here. Each room was more daunting than the last. That Wizard he passed on the way in, was unconscious now.

Boom!

Another twenty paces and two hallways later, Alan made it to the front of the building, stepping out to a creature with a female body draped in icy, stone-like armor. Its feet were hooves, legs wrapped in snowy spikes, face smooth but for horns intertwined around it like a mask.

The Shiva was looking for something frantically. Tearing the roofs off of buildings and kicking stones out of place.

Alan ducked when a stray brick smashed into the ward.

The clouds high above all cried and held their faces, looking over to the mayhem of the realm.

This is chaos, Alan thought, holding his side.

The Shiva turned abruptly – white shimmering eyes centered on Alan. It roared a cone of blizzardy residue that made Alan shield his face. He thought it was harmless at first, but soon, he realized his limbs were becoming harder to move, his hands growing icicles.

The ward, no. Even his thoughts were slowing.

Alan gritted his teeth as the White Saro became more constricting, reaching for a coin in his bag. It felt like moving a stone.

C’mon. C’mon. His shivering fingers struggled to grasp the coin. Everything was numb. The winds screeched so loud, he was sure he’d be deaf at the end of it. So many warriors stuck behind me. They’ll die without Saro flowing through them.

No.

His quivering hand pulled the Vosh coin, and with a lingering middle finger, he flipped it into a Saro protective bubble that expanded over the entirety of the ward, blocking out the winds, the snow, the cold.

Alan exhaled, falling to one knee as his entire body thawed. He didn’t know how much more he could take… But he rose again, watching the bubble ripple as the Shiva’s frigid breath ricocheted off of it. That’s twice now this item saved his life. He was grateful he negotiated for it, and disliked Vidiger a little bit less for being a coward.

Sema rushed outside, out of breath. “A shield.” She rested her hand on Alan. “We’re safe, for now.”

“The Bubble of Vosh,” Alan said.

Her brow furrowed as she slowly realized. “You?”

Alan clenched his jaw. “We’re not out of it yet.”

The Shiva huffed once it realized its breath no longer affected them. It stomped closer, making Alan’s vision blur with each step. Cracks in the ground sent fissures through the square.

“Get back.” Alan drew his dagger and flipped it to be downfacing. He knew he’d be no match for such a demon, and that the Vosh depleted nearly all of his Saro, but he’d flip Yogi out to defend the world even if it killed him.

He thumbed the coin in his off-hand. “Are there any warriors recovered?”

“I will get who I can. But it won’t be enough. We need the front-lines,” Sema assured.

“Well, we’ll just have to stall until they get here.” Alan faced forward as the Shiva reached through the bubble with a clawed hand – piercing the veil, parting it like the sea.

It only protects against elemental effects, he reminded himself. “Go, Sema. Get whoever you can!”

The deep blue palm and crystal-white fingertips were the size of Alan’s entire body. The beast was huge, twice the size of Yogi. But he had to have faith.

“Don’t, Alan! Your body can’t take it!” Durger warned.

“What choice do I have?” Alan leapt back a few steps when the hand got too close.

He then narrowed his eyes, noticing a twinkle near the Shiva’s hoof… A pool of molten orange forming beside it.

Orange Saro, he thought. Then, in a flash, a dark figure whipped a long poleaxe out of the molten ground, used it to vault into the air, and slashed the Shiva across the chest. Steam exhaled as it shrieked its horror.

Alan fell to his knees, rewinding the Bubble of Vosh and exhaling his relief. “Lucius.”