Hm. My first impulse was to take the Gift of Victory, because I definitely needed both strength and alertness. And despite what Oksar said, my domain didn’t seem to matter much. I had a backpack, after all.

On the other hand, Oksar knew far more about this world than I did. I trusted his opinion more than mine.

On the other other hand, he didn’t know that upgrading Treasure was an option. Would I get better stuff? Like more foam beads, or even pearl beads directly? If so, that could be a lifesaver. I wasn’t sure that one additional point to Strength or Alertness would make a difference, but Treasure definitely would if it kept the minor heal pearls coming.

Yet the ability to spend another few seconds as smoke could also save my life. Transforming into vapor was basically my superpower, and two extra points of Spirit would strengthen it. The moment I started losing a fight, I could kind of reset everything if I turned to smoke.

Of course, a greater-than-20% increase in my Speed sounded good, too. Better than good. I wouldn’t get in so much trouble if I was fast. Speed kind of trumped every other skill. Yeah, that sounded the best. Except your speed didn’t matter if you couldn’t damage your opponent.

Still, I almost chose the Gift of Reach, to improve speed and domain ... and then I didn’t.

Because Oksar had loved my domain, and he’d talked about ‘gems’ with awe and reverence. Mine was pretty impressive, at least according to me, but I suspected--I knew--that Oksar would’ve expected more from a gem than just generic smokiness. So I’d invest points in Spirit, in hopes of discovering what a gem could really do.

“Give me the gift of heart,” I said, and then thought, “And only show me the stuff that changed.”

Boons:

Domain: 2/5

Attributes:

Spirit: 11

Derived:

Mana: 22

Available points: 3

Hm. I didn’t feel any different, and--even worse--I didn’t detect any new smoke-based power. I tried firing smoke-chains from my hands and emitting clouds of poison smoke and just ended up standing there looking constipated.

Still, I liked the increased mana. That gave me one or maybe two more smoke-transformations without waiting to recover. Which wasn’t dramatic, but could definitely save my life.

I tucked one hatchet into my new, larger domain. Then the other. Plenty of space. Then I added backpack. Still plenty of space. So I started picking rahico fruit by touching them with a fingertip and blinking them into my domain. Tap, blink. Tap, blink. I still couldn’t grab ones which were attached with strong stems, but the riper ones, barely hanging on the branches, blipped immediately into my domain despite still hanging on the tree.

Which amused me to no end. Poke a fruit and make it vanish!

Well, give me a break, I’d been trapped without internet connectivity for weeks. My entertainment options were pretty slim.

Then, when I absently reached for the eleventh or twelfth rahico, I shifted it into my domain without even touching it.

Holy shit.

I tried that again, and yup: I could move items into my much-larger domain from a distance now. After a little experimentation, I discovered that that distance was about a handspan. Still, the upgraded power felt like a serious improvement. Maybe eventually, I’d be able to grab things from across a room. Or to snatch weapons out of enemies’ hands. Oooh, or to summon rocks from my domain, high in the air, and drop them onto monster spiders!

I didn’t know what, exactly, this capacity might turn into. Yet I knew I’d taken another step on the path. So in celebration, I absorbed a rock and a stout branch. Well, why not?

A second rock filled my dimensional space to capacity.

Domain

2 hatchets

1 skillet

1 backpack with assorted contents

2 rocks

1 branch

4 pearl beads

7 foam beads

14 rahico fruit

I took comfort in the four pearl beads I’d managed to save from all my fighting and looting. And in the three available points that I’d invest in Fortitude if necessary.

“Looking good,” I told myself. “Time to clear an infestation and save a princess.”

I sharpened my blades again, then crossed the courtyard to the Hole. I looked through the swirling blackness, into the bleak, desolate graveyard, and took a breath.

Then I said, “It’s-a-me, Mario!”

I cracked my neck and waited for the fear to hit. Or at least the second thoughts. Yet I didn’t feel any. I felt ... wary and tense, but not frightened. I’d learned how to use my weapons and my powers. I’d trained for days. I was ready for this. Ready to claim the rewards.

So I stepped into the tombyard.

The first thing I noticed? I was underground.

I’d walked forward from an open-air courtyard, stepped though the smoky portal in the clear light of day, and bang: underground. I was standing with a roughly-rectangular subterranean cavern in front of me. It looked about the size of a football field. The ceiling was eighty or ninety feet overhead, and dripping with stalactites that gleamed in the orange light that emanated from below.

Embers glowed atop about half of the gravestones. Which, instead of being normal graves, with standing stones, were flatter and longer. Horizontal, like big stone coffins arranged in columns and rows. They were packed pretty closely together, too, with narrow aisles between them.

In the light of the smoldering embers, I saw a dozen or so larger tombs among the flat ones. Most of the bigger ones were about the size of, well, SUVs, but two were as big as city busses and two more were as big as eighteen-wheelers. Apparently after being hit by a vehicle, that was how I measured things now. By vehicle size.

Anyway, there were also a handful of black, leafless trees rising among the stones. Bare-branched and charred.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

So that was cheerful.

I didn’t see any signs of ‘infestation,’ so I figured I’d creep forward toward the largest tombs. They seemed like the most important. First I waited, though. And waited. And watched the undying embers of light and the rising smoke and the stillness. I didn’t notice any ominous movements. I didn’t feel any dreadful premonitions or hear any terrible sounds.

I waited and watched for another few minutes, then I returned through the Hole into the bright light of the courtyard. So good, I could retreat if necessary. And if I stayed close to the exit. That was a relief.

Then I looked across the temple grounds toward the gate. I mean, I could return to Oksar’s ruined camp and try to salvage more of his stuff before exploring the tombyard. But I didn’t want to face that dire puma again, and I suspected that I couldn’t simply leave and enter the temple courtyard forever. At some point, that thread of smoke wouldn’t open for me.

Also, I wanted that ‘kickass blessing.’

And I needed an ally.

And I wouldn’t last long in a world with real gemmed if I didn’t get stronger. Much stronger.

So I stepped back through the Hole and looked at the bleakness again. I still didn’t see any infestation. As if spiders weren’t enough, ‘infestation’ sounded like cockroaches or termites. Or rats. Monstrous rats. Didn’t every fantasy world have monstrous rats? That didn’t bother me, as long as there wasn’t a swarm of them. Or a swarm of anything, really, other than rainbows or lullabies or tortilla chips.

Damn, I missed chips. I missed quesadillas from La Corazon, and I longed for pizza. I’d kill a swarm of rats for a slice of cheese pizza. Hell, I’d kill two swarms for a slice of garlic pineapple.

Yeah, so I stood there for a while, thinking about food instead of taking another step into the tombyard. Not because I was scared or anything. Just thinking, that’s all.

The only thing that happened was, I got hungrier.

Eventually I knelt to the cavern floor, grabbed a few bits of rock, and chucked them to the side. They clattered as they fell, breaking the silence.

Nothing else happened.

I started forward, keeping my steps light. The unfinished, rough stone floor became smoother as I approached the first tombs. In the orange light, the ground looked like polished concrete. The tombs themselves, though, were made of onyx or obsidian, the same material as the altar where I’d woken.

I stopped, holding my hatchets ready, and peered at the nearest tomb. The embers burned in the shape of a shattered skeleton. So instead of burying their dead, the Billowing Ones barbecued them on these stones? Then the flames kept burning for ... for impossibly long? While only the faintest traces of bone remained?

Yeah, something like that.

“Cheerier and cheerier,” I muttered, then stepped closer.

Nothing happened, so I slipped between two tombs. I walked twenty or thirty feet, past a bunch of graves, then circled back toward the exit. Well, there was reason to start getting brave now.

A minute after I turned, I noticed a tombstone with writing carved into the side.

I checked my surroundings, and when I didn’t detect signs of an incoming swarm, I looked closer at the text. After practicing on Oksar’s poems, I thought my reading was pretty good, but these words were worn and only partially-legible. And maybe an archaic version of the same language?

Still, I puzzled through the bits that made sense: --terlonith here lingers, dwelling in her formless form ... beloved cleric, gifted with a gem granting a smoke veil, a ... to her students and a ... to our--

The rest looked like gibberish, but one part jumped out at me.

“A smoke veil?” I said, a little too loud in the silence. “I like the sound of that.”

That reminded me of one of the powers Oksar would’ve expected from my gem. A specific smoke-related ability, instead of just: smoke. Though what would a ‘smoke veil’ do? Hide you, probably. Which didn’t seem all that useful: enemies could simply aim for the cloud of smoke. Oh, unless you wrapped other people in the smoke too, and they couldn’t see anyway but you could? Yeah, that sounded pretty powerful. Like casting a ‘darkness’ spell or something.

As I thought about that, the air spoke in a feminine voice: “Oh, goodness! Hello, greetings! Welcome! I wasn’t expecting company!” A silverly laugh rolled across the cavern. “I hope you’ll pardon the mess.”

I froze, my heart pounding and my eyes scanning the gloom.

“Did I frighten, alarm, or unnerve you? I do apologize. In my defense, you frightened, alarmed, and unnerved me as well! I haven’t heard a voice in ... well, I don’t know. Quite a very long time, I should think.”

There was a pause.

“Are ... are you there?” the voice asked, suddenly sounding vulnerable. “I do hope you’ll say something. I hate to resort to emotional blackmail, but I am rather excruciatingly lonely.”

“Who are you?” I said.

“You are here! Greetings! Welcome!”

“Uh,” I said.

“Oh, I already greeted you, didn’t I? Pardon me! I’m too excited, not to say nervous and even delighted, to speak sense! Well, to answer your question, I am not entirely sure who I am. I feel as if I just woke after a significantly overextended nap. However, I ... I do know that I’m trapped here.”

“Where?” I frowned across the cavern. “Where are you?”

“I am locked, trapped, or enclosed in ... in what appears to be a large stone hall of some variety? Almost like an empty throne room, constructed in rather stark style as to the absolute lack of furnishings. I, ah, I find myself unable explore, as I am utterly unable to move. Perhaps this is a temple? Oh, yes! I seem to recall that the priests of an obscure faith summoned me to help them.”

“Oh. Huh. You were summoned, too?”

“Well! If you were summoned, then yes, I was summoned too. However, if you weren’t summoned then I was merely summoned, though not ‘too,’ if you see what I mean.”

I snorted, surprised to find a voice that sounded like a kooky librarian in a grimdark tombyard. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“You’re laughing at me!” she said.

“If you laugh too, then I’ll be laughing with you.”

“I refuse to laugh!” she huffed. “Which means you are laughing at me. You extremely rude person.”

“I can only apologize,” I said.

“I’m teasing, too!” she said, with a loopy sort of triumph.

I laughed. “Okay, okay. Uh, were you summoned from Earth?”

“As in ‘dirt?’”

“No, as in the planet called ‘Earth,’ with places such as Hong Kong and Mexico and McDonalds.”

“I regret to say that I’ve never heard of planet Dirt.” She paused for a moment. “Though I’m almost certain that I was summoned here. Only, my memory feels a tad unreliable and I’m still quite fatigued.”

“Are you a princess?” I asked. “You talk like a princess.”

“Oh, I hope so! That sounds rather grand. Me, a princess! Surrounded by rubies and banquets and silken tapestries. Except I’ve none of that, just a large, empty stone hall of some variety. There is a high window, rather large, and an orange glow beyond, which if I squint looks like the sunset--or perhaps sunrise, I forget which one I mean.”

“You talk like a drunk princess.”

She huffed again, then said in a smaller voice: “I’m frightened.”

“And trapped?”

“Indeed. I can’t seem to move from this spot. I ... almost remember. The priests begged for my aid and I believe I attempted to help them but ... failed? Yes. That feels correct, if incomplete. The echo of an ancient failure. Did I say ‘ancient?’”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, that’s irksome. I don’t feel ancient. I feel fatigued. I ... who am I? Who are you?”

“I’m Alex.”

“A pleasure to almost meet you, Alex. I hesitate to overstep the bounds of polite intercourse on such short acquaintance, but I rather suspect--in fact, I’m quite certain--that I am in desperate need of assistance or, putting it more succinctly: help. Please, Alex. Help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for, princess.”

“What a happy coincidence!” She yawned. “Oh, I beg your pardon yet again! So rude. I am going to retreat for the nonce into the comforting arms of slumber, if you’ll excuse me.”

“For the what?”

“The nonce. That is to say, ‘the moment.’ Though before I sleep I should mention that I just recalled or detected--I can’t quite tell which--that three vicious specimens of predatory intent are sharing this chamber with us, and one of them is only a few moments from attacking you--“

My attention focused on the quiet tombyard at her words, and I lifted my left-hand hatchet higher to defend my face.

“--so make ready, my sweet voice from beyond these prison walls. Keep your eyes sharp and your tarsi sharper, and I shall whisper a prayer on your behalf as I drift into the arms of sleep, which ...”

As her voice faded, a bizarre tumbleweed rolled toward me across the tops of the tombs. A tangle of stalks about the size of a beachball, knotted together into a roughly-spherical shape.

I didn’t wait for it to reach me. One thing I’d learned from fighting a hundred spiders was the importance of maintaining initiative. You don’t wait for the other guy--or the other thornspider, whatever--to get into position, to launch an attack. You moved, you seized initiative, you tried to establish the battlespace.

So I trotted sideways, along an aisle to my right ... and the tumbleweed swerved to follow me, still on top of the coffin-like stones.

Huh. I didn’t like ceding the higher ground to that thing, so I considered jumping onto the nearest tombstone. Yet I also didn’t like leaving the ground, and making myself more visible to any ’infestation.’ Then I thought about a swarm of rats pouring through the shadowy aisles across the tombyard, and decided that yeah, maybe I’d risk the top of the tombs.

I vaulted onto the nearest one--easily with my extra point of Strength--then hopped to the next one. Well, I hopped to the next one that wasn’t glowing with orange embers. I didn’t particularly want to disturb anyone’s burning remains. Still, ash rose where my scuffed scandals landed ... and the tumbleweed once again swerved toward me again.

As did the other two tumbleweeds, twenty and fifty feet behind the first one.

I crouched with my hatchets in my hands--and the rolling weed clamped down on a tombstone a few rows away, and unraveled into a creature with a dozen whip-thin arms around a body the size of a basketball. Oh! Those were legs, not arms.

“Another fucking spider,” I muttered.

A mutant one, though, with three times the normal number of legs, and a mouth like leech-monster.

INTUIT: A web construct of Ichotry.

I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t wait for clarification. I surged forward, and when I reached the ‘construct,’ I swung low and hard. My hatchet chopped through the mass of legs--sticky, syrupy legs--and hacked the body in half.