After checking her status, Sam pulled her old brewery shirt from her inventory. She had been ecstatic when her skill allowed her to repair it. The shirt was the only link she had to Earth, so it held great sentimental value. Slipping into the comfy oversized t-shirt, Sam took a long nap using Lupie’s soft fur as a pillow. The loot items could wait if they would be there for a few days.
***
Alexander sat at his daughter’s bedside. He was thankful she had been at his shop when she accepted the quest. He had been able to care for her as she slept off the effects of a world-changing system quest being etched into her soul. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders and tucking in the sides, Alexander sat back in his armchair, absently rubbing at his chest. A look of profound sadness crossed his face as his fingers traced the ridges of an old scar beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. A symbol of a promise broken and a friendship lost. The star-shaped scar was an eternal reminder of their failure, of his failure.
***
Harold was going through the reports regarding the recent raid event. He would contact the families of the fallen today, one of the most unpleasant aspects of being a guild leader. His fingers brushed the mark on his chest, “I do not suppose you would be willing to perform those duties today?” He asked his blight. A translucent stream of mist flowed from his chest, coalescing into a lithe female figure sitting on his desk.
The incorporeal woman leaned over and cupped Harold’s chin in her clawed hands, “You know the answer to that already.”
Harold sighed and rolled his eyes. The floor squeaked when he pushed his chair back and stood. "Well, I suppose I should get to it then." He was almost to the door of his office when he felt the magic enter the guild hall; it was powerful. What worried him, though, was that the magic was directed. Uncontrolled, chaotic magic typically meant one of the members had made a grave mistake while toying with a new spell or item. But powerful and controlled magic meant someone with much control directed it at something or, worse yet, someone.
“Ventress, prepare yourself!” Harold snapped at his blight as he took his own advice and summoned his shadow armor, watching from the corner of his eye as Ventress did the same, her incorporeal form solidifying as the flat black leather wrappings appeared around her. Gone was her coy, joking demeanor from a moment ago. Ventress looked to Harold with a severe expression, and she gave him a slight nod, indicating she was ready.
They burst through the office door and sprinted down the short hallway to the main hall, where they nearly slammed into Evan; his usually dapper attire had been replaced with a formal suit made from a silky black material, a thin sword bounced against his hip as he stopped in front of Harold. Before Harold could say anything, Evan held up a key ring and said, “It came from the suites!”
The three of them ran up the stairs to the suite level, Harold only absently noting Ken activating dozens of runes around the bar, causing the entire round structure to fold in upon itself and sink into the floor, replaced with stone and steel barriers that appeared around the great hall. Even as the trio reached the top of the stairs, nearly every barrier and firing position in the great hall had one or two adventurers behind them.
Ventress pointed at a particular suite, and the three approached it cautiously. Even without Ventress’s higher magical senses, Harold and Evan could feel the magical energy emanating from the room as they came closer. The door was slightly ajar, allowing energy waves to flow out of the room. The cracks between Ventress’s wrappings began to glow brightly, and she moaned in pleasure as she absorbed the magical energy. Harold had to fight his body’s reaction to freeze up as he unconsciously absorbed the unaspected mana flowing from the crack in the doorway. “I cannot—” Ventress gasped as she fell to her knees, panting. The glow coming from her was bright enough to fill the entire hall, even with her wrappings on.
Suddenly, it was over. The energy disappeared so quickly that Harold stumbled forward slightly, not realizing he had been leaning into the energy waves. Had Evan not caught him, he would have accidentally closed the door to the suite. Righting himself, Harold looked at Evan and squared his shoulders. Drawing his staff from its sling on his back, Harold checked on Ventress; she was back upright but still looked dazed. Seeing his look, she shook herself, gave him a thumbs up, and drew two long curved daggers from their sheathes on her lower back. Evan’s sword made a hiss as it left its belt ring, and the party was ready.
Yanking open the door, Harold dashed through first and froze, barely three steps in. Evan and Ventress nearly ran into him when he stopped. Three of the most powerful warriors in Helms Peak stared at the scene displayed in front of them. Ventress broke the silence first with a chortle, then followed it with laughter. She slapped Harold’s back, dismissed her armor, and said, “Do not even think about summoning me to help when you tell the duke what his daughters have done.” With that, she turned into mist and retreated into Harold's chest.
Harold could only shake his head at the sight of the four berserkers sprawled out on the floor with glowing blue pentagrams tattooed into their chests, their still smoldering clothes hanging loosely from their bodies where the fabric had been burned away. “This is going to be a long day,” Harold grumbled, dismissing his armor and weapon.
***
Sam was rudely woken from her slumber by a shout from Parish. Jumping up and infusing her body with magic, Sam hurriedly looked around for the threat only to see Nara convulsing on the moss of the cave floor, her mouth open in a silent scream as her shirt was being burned through yet again by the radiant blue light of her pentagram. The center of the symbol now had two smaller markings, and as Sam watched, four more rune-like symbols started etching themselves in the outer points of the star. Running over and ripping off the Moonblight’s flaming shirt, Sam placed her hands on Nara’s convulsing stomach, trying to pour healing magic into her. But just as the previous time, there was no physical damage done other than the mild burns from where her shirt had caught fire.
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Six symbols were etched into Nara's flesh when it was over. Sam and Parish could only stand by and watch helplessly as she slept off the effects of whatever the System had done to her. Parish pulled up the quest screen and showed it to Sam. There were now six participants, apparently each rune in the pentagram representing a single participant; only the lowermost point of the star was left empty now.
Sam asked Parish, “Do you know who else received the quest?”
Nodding, Parish said, “Brenda and her sisters, Nina, Chad, and myself.” Sam raised her eyebrows, surprised she knew all of them. Parish continued, “The quintuplets, Chad, Nina, and I grew up together. Our parents adventured together for a time until my mother…my mother,” Parish struggled for words, her face pained, “she did…something, I’m not sure what. It must have been bad because the other parents abruptly cut off contact with her.” Parish looked away, a pained expression on her face, “She, my mother, has never spoken of it. All I know is she returned home in a panic one night after being gone for months. I was not supposed to be awake, but I heard her and my father arguing; they were trying to keep their voices down but were not doing a very good job. So, I snuck downstairs and saw them in the main room of the palace—”
“Wait,” Sam interrupted, “What fucking palace?”
“I…um, my father’s palace…” Parish said with a strained smile.
Sam stared at Parish for a long moment as she cradled Nara’s head in her lap, gently stroking her hair. She was putting together all the slight slips from the raid event participants where they would occasionally call Chad 'Sir' or Parish 'Lady.’ The way everyone seemed to know and respect Parish and Chad, even Brenda and her sisters, as rough and rowdy as they were, received more respect from the locals and guards than seemed appropriate for a bunch of junior adventurers. Finally, Sam asked, “Was everyone in my suite royalty?”
“Nina isn’t, nor is young Marin,” Parish said, “Although the Duke has tried to give Alexander a title, he refused. And Marin’s mother is one of the guard captains of Helms Peak.”
Sam waited, but when it was obvious Parish was finished speaking, she asked, “You mean to tell me the constantly half-naked berserker sisters are—”
"The Duke's daughters. Yes." Parish said and slightly smiled when Sam facepalmed. When Sam only groaned, Parish continued her story, “As I was saying, my mother and father were arguing. I could not hear what they were saying from where I hid, but I could tell my father was trying to console her while he did his best to heal a horrible scar on her chest. She did not want the wound healed and kept trying to stop him, but he persisted, casting spell after spell on her.” Parish sighed, “In the end, my mother got her wish. The star-shaped scar remained even after one of the most powerful battle healers in the Beastlands had cast his most powerful healing spells to heal it.” Parish opened her shirt, revealing the blue pentagram etched into her chest. The star was upside down, with the lowermost point right between Parish's breasts. The mark was no longer glowing, but Sam could still feel its power. It had only one runic symbol in the center, which matched one in Nara’s pentagram. Parish explained, “The scar on my mother’s chest is identical to this one. I believe the seven of us who received the quest are the direct descendants of those who failed it a generation ago, and it now falls to us to complete it.”
“Oh, so no pressure then,” Sam said sarcastically.
“On the contrary, there is great pressure to succeed in this—oh, sarcasm.” Parish looked away and started fastening the clasps of her shirt, saying, “Laugh all you want, but this is serious, Sam. Failure means Nara dies, and I know our parents were at least above level one hundred when they failed.” She reached out, taking one of Nara’s hands in her own, “They let one of Nara’s parents die…likely her mother from what I overheard that night and what Nara explained of her dream earlier.” Sam could see Parish’s jaw clenching as she continued, “I will not let that same fate befall this queen. It is time for Tenaris to have a ruler again, for the teleportation gates to be reopened, and for the Church of the Light to be purged from this solar system!”
Sam was impressed with the half-elf’s resolve but couldn’t help thinking, “That’s a tall order you’re taking on, missy,” she looked at Nara’s now peaceful face, “And if you let something happen to my friend, you might have to contend with me."
The group sat in silence for another hour. When it seemed Nara wouldn't wake up anytime soon, Sam decided to go through her loot from their fight with the bandits.
None of the four bandits she had looted owned a storage device, which initially surprised Sam until she checked their items. Other than a few vials of poison, everything else was just plain common armor and weapons. Even the spear that pierced Lupie's side was labeled 'common spear.' Dumping everything out of her inventory, Sam asked Parish if she wanted anything, but the half-elf shook her head.
Lupie had morphed into her bipedal form and was eying the spear curiously. Sam offered it to her, and she accepted it excitedly. Sam had no idea why Lupie wanted a weapon she would likely never use but figured she had some reason. It became apparent when the Bloodmorph used the spear to skewer several raptor steaks and hummed a happy tune while roasting them over the fire.
***
A few hours later, Nara awoke to the smell of roasting meat and a vegetable stew Sam was preparing. Joining Sam where, she was tending the stew with Nul on her head. Nara sat on the soft moss floor and leaned her head against her friend’s shoulder, saying nothing. They were soon joined by Parish and Lupie.
Sam smiled. These moments made up for all the dangers in this world. It didn’t take much soul-searching to realize she was happy she had been transported here. The danger was high, her introduction brutal, but all of that made the contrast of the peaceful moments even more special. “In a few days, we’ll be in the Beastlands,” Sam mused to herself, “I wonder what new and exciting things are going to try and kill me there?”
***
High priest Elris stared into the hole he had just blasted into the marble wall of Cara’s office. The empty cavity was still smoldering from the heat of his light beam. He turned his enraged glare to his new assistant, who tried and failed not to cower in fear. Noticing the young man shrink back, Elris took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After calming himself, Elris said, “Tell every contact we have in and around the city there is a one thousand gold reward for the head of the traitor Cara.
Elris stormed out of the office past his frightened assistant. He had been informed only an hour ago that Technomancer Cara’s storage box, where her hand was kept in safe storage for resurrection, had disintegrated. Not wanting to assume she had betrayed the church, he immediately went to her office, where he knew she kept an item hidden in a safe alcove inside the marble wall. Elris had never asked her what the item was as it did not seem to have any magical properties, and he did not want her to know he was aware of its existence.
As he stormed out of the building, Elris regretted not identifying the small orb. Still, of all the people he had working under him, Cara had always seemed the most loyal. Elris was disappointed. He shook his head, thinking, “Now I will have to kill and resurrect you just so I can torture the truth out of you, Cara…what a pity.”