The Magician leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Whatever you decide,” he said casually, “you’ve earned some downtime. Trust me, you’ll need it.”
Before Vigdis could respond, the floor beneath her shifted again, the now-familiar flash of light and tug of space pulling her away. She tensed instinctively, her hand reaching for her axe, but the disorientation passed quickly. When she blinked, she was standing in a completely different room.
It was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
The space was small but orderly, with clean, angular furniture that looked impossibly modern to her eyes. A single bed was pushed against one wall, its plain white sheets crisply folded. A strange rectangular object sat on a low table across from it, a black glass surface reflecting the faint glow of a clock mounted on the wall. The room was bathed in soft, artificial light, and the air smelled faintly sterile, like nothing she could place.
She turned slowly, her green eyes scanning every corner of the room, her body tense. To her right, a small alcove led to another door, slightly ajar. A faint glimmer of tile and metal told her it was some kind of washroom.
Her instincts screamed at her to move, to prepare for a fight, but there was no immediate sense of danger. No sounds of footsteps, no hidden movement in the corners of her vision. Just... silence.
The black glass on the rectangular object flickered to life suddenly, making her flinch. She instinctively reached for her axe before freezing, her eyes narrowing as an image appeared on the screen. It was the Magician, lounging casually as ever.
“Before you smash anything, let me explain,” the recording said, his tone light. “This is what I’d call a ‘safe room.’ You won’t find it on any maps, and no one’s getting in unless I let them. Relax.”
Vigdis scowled, her grip on her axe loosening slightly but not entirely.
“See that other room?” the Magician continued, gesturing vaguely in the recording. “That’s a bathroom. The shower works with motion—wave your hand under the spout, and it turns on. Easy.”
Vigdis tilted her head slightly, the words unfamiliar and meaningless. A shower? Motion-sensitive?
“Take all the time you need,” the Magician went on. “Rest, eat, clean up. Whatever you need to do before you head back out there. Consider it a parting gift.” He leaned back in the chair on the screen, smirking. “You’ve earned it.”
The screen flickered off, leaving Vigdis alone in the quiet room.
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She didn’t move at first. Her instincts were on edge, every muscle in her body coiled tightly as she scanned the room again. It was too neat, too clean. The kind of place that felt utterly alien compared to the rough, blood-soaked wasteland she was used to.
And yet, she couldn’t sense any danger. The walls were smooth and unbroken, no shadows lurked in the corners, and the faint hum of something mechanical—maybe from the clock or the strange glass object—was steady and nonthreatening.
Finally, she set her axe down, leaning it against the bedframe as her hand brushed against the soft fabric of the sheets. She frowned, glancing toward the open bathroom door. She could hear a faint drip of water echoing softly inside.
Her mind was racing, but she forced herself to take a slow breath. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t trying to kill her. And, admittedly, her body ached. The thought of a moment’s rest—a chance to clean the blood and grime off her skin—was tempting.
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But this room? It felt like a challenge, almost as much as any fight.
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Vigdis began peeling away her gear, piece by piece, her movements deliberate and slow. The battered leather cuirass came off first, its weight dropping heavily to the floor. Underneath, her shirt clung to her, damp with sweat and streaked with blood that wasn’t hers. She pulled it over her head, tossing it aside.
Her fingers moved to the bandages on her wrist and thigh, both crusted with dried blood and dirt. They were sloppy, makeshift things—she hadn’t had the luxury of proper care since Thornshade. She unwrapped them carefully, her green eyes narrowing as she inspected the wounds beneath.
The deep gashes from the bird-monsters were now nothing but faint scars, smooth and pale against her skin. There was no sign of infection, no lingering pain. She ran a finger along the one on her thigh, frowning slightly. The Magician’s safe room, or whatever it was, didn’t feel like a place where infection would dare linger.
Satisfied, she stepped out of her trousers, leaving herself bare as she moved toward the bathroom. The air against her skin was cool, but not uncomfortable. For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself to relax.
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The bathroom was as strange and alien to her as the rest of the room. The smooth metal fixtures gleamed under soft light, and the walls were tiled in a clean, uniform pattern. A reflective surface on one wall caught her eye, and she paused, staring at her reflection. It had been a long time since she’d truly looked at herself—tall, muscular, scarred. Her black hair was matted with sweat and blood, her green eyes sharp but tired.
She turned to the odd contraption in the corner—the “shower.” The Magician’s voice echoed faintly in her mind: “Wave your hand under the spout...”
Hesitantly, she moved her hand. A stream of water burst forth instantly, startling her. She jumped back, her axe hand twitching reflexively, but the water didn’t stop. Tentatively, she reached out again, letting the warm stream flow over her fingers. She exhaled slowly, stepping into the spray.
The water was heavenly, cascading over her skin, washing away days of grime, sweat, and blood. She tilted her head back, letting it soak her hair, running her fingers through the tangled strands to work out the knots. It took time—there was so much sweat and dirt clinging to her, but she didn’t rush. For once, there was no need.
The curves of her body were softened by the water’s shimmer, but the hard lines of her muscles and the scars that traced her skin told another story. She was strong, but her body carried the weight of every battle she’d fought.
When she finished, the water stopped automatically as she stepped out of the shower. A sudden rush of hot air burst from a vent above her, startling her again. It swept over her, drying her skin and hair in moments. She let out a low laugh, shaking her head.
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When Vigdis returned to the main room, her eyes fell on the bed. Her old clothes were gone, replaced by a set of new gear that caught her off guard. She approached it cautiously, her fingers brushing against the fabric and leather. It wasn’t just practical—it was well-made, tailored to fit her form and style.
Vigdis stood for a moment, her fingers brushing the new gear on the bed. The black leather corset, knee-length skirt, sturdy boots, and carefully crafted bracers and shin guards all looked like they’d been tailored specifically for her. The craftsmanship was undeniable, but right now, she didn’t care.
The fight, the walk back, the hot shower—it all hit her at once. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, heavy and insistent. She pushed the gear aside with one hand, not even bothering to examine it further. The bed, with its soft, inviting sheets, called to her in a way she couldn’t resist.
She dropped onto the mattress with a low sigh, the tension melting from her body as soon as she sank into the softness. For a moment, she stayed there on her back, staring at the ceiling. The sound of her own breathing was the only thing breaking the silence.
Rolling onto her side, she grabbed the blanket, pulling it over herself with the same determination she brought to every fight. She wrapped herself tightly, cocooning in its warmth, and exhaled deeply. The world outside faded away as the mattress supported her sore muscles, and the tension in her body unraveled further with every breath.
For once, there was no need to stay on guard. No danger lurking just out of sight. Her instincts, sharp as ever, detected nothing threatening about the room. Just quiet. Just rest.
Her eyes grew heavy, and she let them close, the exhaustion pulling her under. For the first time in what felt like forever, Vigdis allowed herself to truly relax.
Sleep came swiftly, wrapping her in a comfort she’d almost forgotten was possible.