We feel her return as a physical thing, the threads of fate snapping back together with her presence restored. New plans we weave, new threads conceive, as possibilities begin to unfurl. We taste the pain in her soul as a physical thing, a burden that we can use. The tapestry reveals itself once more, and we sigh a breath of relief, filling our pets with the energy we release.
It is but a matter of time now, so we retreat, things set back to what they were meant to be. As she wakes, we sleep, dreaming of the day soon to come where we’ll make those false gods weep, and so the third act of our play begins.
----------------------------------------
I fell from the blackness into the same stone cave I’d started in before as my sword clattered to the floor, another lit torch laying on the ground in front of me. Dizzy with pain, confusion, and grief I fell backward with one hand on my temple, trying to regain a semblance of mental coherence. I’d fucked up, but this was the dungeon and I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in my own self-pity.
I rose to my feet with a sigh, slapped myself until the depression went away, and plastered a false grin so wide it felt as if my face would split in two. I picked up my new sword where it lay on the stone floor and threw the torch out through the starting cave’s exit. As expected several little meatcubes leaped atop the bring stick in an instant. I slid forward in a bull rush, swinging my new sword with awkward alacrity.
A moment later and the poor pests were little more than diced piles of gray meat, their weak constitutions no match for my sheer badassery. I smiled in satisfaction as I looted each corpse and deposited the resulting jerky cubes into my storage. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure how much that dainty little ring could hold. I shrugged, that would be my next question for Jones.
Letting out a calm breath I retrieved the second-floor token from my storage, ready to just throw myself back into the thick of things again. As I tightened my fist to crush the thing, however, a message appeared in the center of my vision.
==========
=Congratulations=
-You have met the requirements to evolve -Skill - (Basic One-Handed Weapons Handling). Please select from the following:
=Sword Dancer’s Proficiency=
-Skill Type - Passive
-Description:
-Allows the blessed to access records to better train with any sword
-Adds bonus (+1) to any attack inflicted with swords.
-Grants (+1) to dexterity while wielding a sword in combat.
=Advanced One-Handed Weapons Handling=
-Skill Type - Passive
-Description:
-Allows the blessed to access both basic and advanced records to better train with any one-handed weapon.
-Adds bonus (+2) to any attack inflicted with one-handed weapons.
=Basic Melee Weapons Handling=
-Skill Type - Passive
-Description
-Allows the blessed to access basic records to better train with any melee weapon.
-Adds bonus (+1) to any attack inflicted with melee weapons.
==========
I blinked in surprise at the notification. Nobody told me skills could evolve. What had I done? Could I do this with my other skills? Well, actually, looking at the skills I supposed it was all pretty self-explanatory. My use of Nika’s spear against the alpha pyugnaek and using the two-handed curved sword just now were probably what had triggered this. It was just strange for it to be happening now. Yet one another question for Jones.
Quickly choosing the ‘Sword Dancer’s Proficiency’ skill, since that one sounded the coolest, and I now had a badass-looking sword, I dismissed the system boxes and refocused on the token, crushing it between my fingers.
A loud crack echoed through the cavern, but also not, as if the sound were trapped within my head just reverberating over and over again. Black goo suddenly appeared from the floor, seeping from the stone like water from a squeezed dishrag before climbing up my legs and covering my entire body. There was a slight flash of pain but before it could even register properly with my brain I found myself back on the second floor surrounded by an endless field of tall grass, a false blue sky looking down on me from above.
To both my surprise and delight I found myself standing just beyond the boundary of the exit portal I’d left in. Carlyn’s party was still camped out a few yards away, smoke from their campfire billowing up into the midday sky. The false smile I’d been forcing those last five minutes softened slightly as I felt myself relax. Maybe shit was fuck outside but in here they were as simple as could be.
“Surprise!” I shouted as I crossed the threshold from grass to cleared dirt. Everyone looked at my sudden proclamation, none of them surprised in the slightest.
“Back so soon?” Carlyn asked, giving me an impish grin that only made my stomach twist. Suffice it to say, I just was not in the mood to even try playing that game, so I just did as usual and ignored the other woman’s suggestive expression.
“Yeah,” I said awkwardly, finding my normally quirky nature suddenly subdued. “Turns out the association doesn’t much like it when you go dungeon delving without a license.” I laughed, then froze as I realized what I said and to whom.
To my surprise the adventurers around me all just chuckled slightly, George even passed Borgen a handful of copper coins. At my frown, Carlyn laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re all unaffiliated adventurers here. You remember that whole dungeon instancing thing?”
At my grimacing nod, she continued. “Well, turns out those ‘licenses’ the association hands out bind adventurers and their registered parties together and force the dungeon to create a stabilized pocket dimension so they don’t experience the time dilation. So, if you enter a dungeon without one, you just get thrown in here.”
I was quiet for a moment as I processed that information. “So, you’ve known this whole time that I’m not a licensed adventurer, and you’ve said nothing?” I asked with a degree of incredulity.
Carlyn just shrugged, still grinning. “It was still just as likely you were a plant sent by the association. They do that sometimes to try and catch rogues like us. But that's enough of that, why are you back? I thought you had a wife to get back to?”
I avoided the other woman’s hopeful stare. “Things didn’t go as planned, I’d rather not talk about it. You wouldn’t mind if I tagged along with you all again, would you?”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Girl,” Carlyn said, her accent thickening on the word. “You saved our asses in that last fight. We’d be damn fools to turn you away now. Of course, you can join us. Come on, we were just about to break out the good stuff.”
Carlyn bounced up from her seat and grabbed my hand, dragging me over to the chair she’d just vacated and pushing me into it despite my weak protests. She pulled another chair from her storage and set it down next to mine, settling in with mischief written all across her face. “George, the wine! We’re initiating the little hero here into the party!”
Everyone cheered, even Jones, if a bit halfheartedly, and George withdrew several bottles of bright purple-red wine and a keg of what I hoped was beer from the larger storage gem he carried in his pack. Everyone pulled a variety of well-worn cups from their rings as he began working his way around the fire, pouring out a hefty share for everyone.
Inwardly I shrugged, letting myself get swept up in the suddenly jubilant atmosphere. I moved to pull out my own dingy mug, but before I could Borgen was pushing the largest cup I'd ever seen into my hands. Seriously, that thing could have held at least a gallon of liquid. I didn’t even get a chance to protest before George was there, filling the giant cup to the brim. It was then I realized nobody else had started drinking yet, all staring at me with expectant grins, except Jones’ who was now reading a book while taking the occasional sip from a surprisingly simple wine glass.
I supposed this is what Carlyn meant by ‘initiation.’ Fuck it, I thought, raising the cup to my lips and just chugging, barely cognizant of the bitter-sweet taste washing over my tongue. I’d hardly made a dent before I felt a need to stop and catch my breath, but the moment I tried to lower the cup I found myself incapable.
Panic gripped me as whatever magic was imbued within the thing forced me to keep downing the booze. My hands strained to try and pull it away to no avail, my heart thumping louder and louder in my head. Falling into full-on panic mode, I reached out to my skills, mentally flailing like a toddler in a river, somehow managing to activate false rest.
A heady rush of energy washed through me in a soothing wave, clearing my thoughts just long enough for me to activate my countercharm skill. It burned across my skin where the card was tattooed just below my navel, the power of my skill fighting off the enchanted mug’s power.
There was an audible pop in the air around my head and suddenly the mug was thrown away as the force of my desperate pushing was unleashed on the horrible pottery. It hit the dirt with a loud thud.
To my surprise, there wasn’t so much as a drop of wine left in the thing. A few more seconds and the cup probably would have let me go anyway. I glared around at the others who were all in various states of laughter, George and Borgen were red-faced and cackling while Nika looked away with a hand over her mouth and Carlyn was falling out of her chair with open mirth. Jones just glanced over, rolled his eyes, and went back to his book with another sip of wine.
“The fuck was that?” I asked, glaring indignantly at everyone. “You almost drowned me!”
“Initiation,” Borgen said between laughs. My look of confusion and the over-strong wine were both apparently enough to send him and Borgen back into a fit of laughter. After calming down a bit he explained further. “We all had to do it when we joined up. Look at your hand.” He pointed to the four-fingered appendage and I glanced down, finally noting a small black mark in the shape of a turtle dragon, roughly the size of a bee, set into my skin. “Congrats, kid, you’re one of us now.”
“Really?” I said flatly, shifting my incredulous glare off toward Carlyn who was grinning up at me from where she was laying on her back in the dirt. “I’m pretty sure most toddlers could come up with a better initiation rite. Arcana, that fucking sucked.” I grimaced remembering the over-sweet taste as I began to sway in my seat.
“Relax,” Carlyn said, a bubbling laugh following quickly after the word as she got to her feet and pushed me back into my chair. Evidently, this wine was a fair bit stronger than the stuff we’d drunk last time, given the bright flush to the other woman’s cheeks, the way she swayed slightly on her feet, and the way my head just didn’t want to sit at a normal angle all of a sudden. “It was just a little fun. I wouldn’t have let it hurt you. You’re my little hero, after all.” So saying, Carlyn plopped into her chair with a lack of grace that even a one-legged house cat couldn’t have affected as I pulled out my own mug and George filled it for me.
The rest of the day became a blur as we emptied the bottles and keg and partied. About halfway through the evening, Borgen started going on and on about the fight against the pyugnaek while Jones began drunkenly trying to explain his theories on the application of dungeon cores for spiritual transposition and for the creation of artifact-grade weapons. It sounded like nonsense to me but I couldn’t help but egg the giant nerd on anyway. At some point, the alcohol became too much and everything faded from a murky fog of thought to complete emptiness.
The next morning I found myself blinking the haze of restless sleep from my eyes as my head thundered with regretful agony as some bird made light chirping songs somewhere outside the tent. I turned and groaned atop the cot, nestling my face into the mess of green curly hair beside me and sighing in satisfaction at the sweet smell clinging to it. Only when the hair moved and I was met with Carlyn’s smiling face inches away from mine did I put two and two together.
“Morning, little hero,” the other woman said in a coquettish tone. I jerked away and got to my feet, staggering half-dressed out of her tent, the sound of her warm laughter chasing me out into the chill morning air as I clutched at my head. I made it maybe three feet before I fell to my knees and puked up everything I’d ever eaten.
When the bile finally stopped flowing I fell onto my side and let out a loud groan as my head spun. A few moments later a shadow appeared over me and I could vaguely hear someone mumbling the words to a spell. An orb of blue-green light flew at my head and a moment later the pain and nausea all vanished as if they’d never been there.
Still weak, I craned my neck up and gave Jones a grateful smile, a bit of vomit dripping from my chin. He offered me a scowl and a slight look of disgust in return before walking away. “Put some clothes on for fucks sake,” he said with his back to me.
I gave a weak attempt at a rude gesture, only to realize I was once again using the wrong hand before letting it flop back to the dirt with a pathetic thud.
A moment later the flap to Carlyn’s tent opened and the woman stepped outside, grinning down at me like a demon looming over its prey. “You forgot something,” she said with a smirk, then threw my balled-up tunic at me. I caught it in my shaking hands and quickly pulled it over my head.
“You remember what you did last night?” Carlyn asked, her mouth half-cocked, eyes lidded with a thousand suggestions as she crouched down on one knee beside me.
I shook my head vehemently. “Not exactly, but I think I’d be better off not knowing, thanks.”
She let out a breathy laugh that made me shiver for all the wrong reasons. “Awe, you’re no fun,” she said in that teasing child-like tone used by flirtatious women and whiny nine-year-olds, then leaned in, bringing her lips within an inch of my ear. “Nothing,” she whispered, her breath an unwelcome caress against my skin.
“Really?” I asked, jerking away from the taller woman, not really sure if I could believe her so easily.
“Really,” she said simply, straightening and offering me a hand. I took it and she pulled me to my feet with ease. “You just tore off your shirt, fell into the cot, and passed the fuck out. That's it. Nothing else happened.”
“Ah, thank fuck,” I replied, glancing down at my marriage mark to confirm that there was indeed only one red mark marring its otherwise perfect image, then realized what I’d said. “Wait, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carlyn said, her smile softening into something far less lustful than what she usually gave me. “It’s all on the booze, not you.”
I gave an awkward laugh in reply. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Taking a deep breath to center myself again, letting it out as a sigh.
“So,” I said, now just shy of being ready for the day. “What’s the plan from here?”
“Breakfast,” Carlyn said with a straight face, then grinned wickedly, the sort of wicked that makes children cry. “Then it's back to slaying us some monsters”