I rubbed the crystal, watching it vanish. My back was pressed against a charred tree, its burnt scent long faded from my senses. Gloria lay, her head cradled in my lap, gazing up at me with eyes that tugged at my not-so-youthful heart.

“You have to leave, don't you?” The intensity in her gaze pierced me. I could only nod in response. Part of me yearned to remain there indefinitely, her nestled against me. But my reality was elsewhere; I was still a captive of Purgatory. Slaying Volcanic hadn't altered that fact, and Merlin's words echoed in my mind about facing the Harbinger of Eternal Doom. And my gamer's intuition told me my next chapter lay beyond that looming portal.

“Do you want to join me?” I asked, my voice laden with hope.

“No, I can't,” she replied. “There's much to rebuild here.”

“I understand,” I began, pausing as thoughts of what might have been, and what still could be, danced in my mind. “Maybe someday…”

The gate began to buzz, and a dark swirl, like a ribbon of smoke, materialized between the pillars. From this nebulous portal, a figure stepped through with measured calm.

He approached us, his expression one of concern mingled with curiosity. "Are you both unharmed?"

“Yes, we’re fine,” I said and stood up. “How did you…” I pointed towards the portal.

Merlin's smile was faint but sincere. "I traverse the realms as needed, Mr. Tim. When I received your summons, I was already near a portal. And it seems you've dispatched Volcanic. Well done."

“Barely.”

“You proved you are ready to move on, Mr. Tim.” Merlin continued. "Your arm requires attention, though. Let me provide something for that." He turned his gaze to Gloria. "And you, Glomrinerym? Are you injured?"

She rose, brushing off her attire, "I'll manage."

"Very well." Merlin proceeded to assemble a potion from his cape, which seemed to store an endless array of bottles and ingredients.

“Merlin! Glomrinerym! Tim!” A voice sounded behind us. I turned around to see Lurin, breathless and rushing towards us, accompanied by villagers lugging a hefty chest. They all came to a halt, eyes fixed in awe on the mysterious portal.

“Lurin!” I managed, my voice squeezed out between the bear hug and my newly remembered broken arm. I might as well have been hugging a cactus.

“By the power of the six strings, Tim! You’re the hero we strummed about in ballads!” Lurin exclaimed.

“Oh, it was all Glomrinerym,” I said, gesturing with my good arm towards her like a magician revealing his lovely assistant.

Lurin walked over to her. “Glomrinerym my child, you did it. You saved Highland and revenged your family. They can finally rest in peace now. ”

Gloria bowed her head, and I could see her shoulders bob.

“I come bearing the feast of victory!” Lurin declared as if he was unveiling the next big thing after sliced bread. enough to make a vegetarian reconsider.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I brought you something,” Lurin said and gestured to the villagers panting like they’d just finished a marathon in full armor. They dropped the heavy chest to the ground. Out tumbled the bounty: mead, cheese, bread, and meats I have never seen anything more beautiful. Fighting bosses works wonders on the appetite.

As we dug in, I had a moment of sober realization amidst the revelry. This banquet was the final level before I hit 'continue' and walked through that ominous doorway-to-who-knows-where. Merlin’s eyes twinkled at me from across the makeshift tablecloth, his look saying, "Ready for the sequel?"

And when it was time to press on, there they all were—Gloria, Merlin, Lurin, and the two villagers Tom and Jones (I mean, seriously, who named these guys?)—waving like I was setting off on a cruise rather than stepping into the maw of uncertainty. I soaked in Gloria’s gaze, the gravity of my next 'click' in the game of destiny weighing on my shoulders.

Gloria’s face suddenly changed. She walked up to me, hugged me, and whispered in my ear. “I almost forgot my promise to you.” Then she hit me hard in the stomach, wrapping me over myself and onto my knees. I looked up at her

“Why?”

“I told you I would punish you for leaving me behind.” She smiled and sat down on her knees in front of me, took off her necklace, and handed it to me.

“No, you can’t,” I said.

“My fighting days are over, Tim. Thanks to you. This belonged to my deceased husband. He was a bard, just like you. It will make you faster in combat and smoother in song. Please, you’ll need it more than me.”

With reverence, I allowed her to drape the necklace around me. The energy it gave off was like downing an elixir of sheer vitality.

“Thank you, for everything, Tim. Should your travels loop back to Highlands, don't be a stranger,” Gloria said, her voice softer now.

“I'll remember the way.” I got to my feet, offered a hand to Gloria, and faced my motley crew for a final bow. Tom and Jones just got a nod – let's not get sentimental.

I turned away, let the tears freely mix with the dust of Purgatory, and took my first step into the portal, the unknown melody of my future playing softly ahead.

***

It felt like being wrapped in a cloak of midnight velvet while riding a roller coaster – dark, disorienting, and strangely thrilling. Time seemed to lose its grip on reality, each second stretching into oblivion.

Emerging on the other side wasn't the graceful float I'd envisioned, Merlin style – it was a gravity-bound tumble into a world where the sun was a relentless spotlight.

The heat was immediate and unforgiving, an invisible weight against my skin.

Shouts and clanks filled the air like some sort of chaotic symphony, each warrior contributing their own notes of fervor and steel.

“Dwarf! Over here, come on! The sand's for fighting, not lounging!”

Peering through the glare, I made out ranks upon ranks of armored figures, a tableau of anticipation facing an unseen foe.

“Dwarf! Listen up! Fall in!” The source of the voice was a human behemoth, his beard a fiery banner in the desert sun.”Class?”

Brushing off a layer of indignity and sand, I straightened up. "Uhm, I'm a Bard, what's this place?" I asked, my voice threading through the clamor of the battlefield's prelude.

"Where you are? Stop waffling around! You're in the fourth row. Hustle up, get back in line!" The burly man with the red beard gestured impatiently, his hand sweeping like he was shooing chickens rather than directing a newcomer.

Trudging up the sandy incline, I sidestepped warriors and creatures alike, the scene before me was like a living chessboard, except the pieces were itching for a brawl.

"Hey Bard! Over this way!” I heard someone shouting and turned to spot a young woman signaling me over, a Doss lute strapped to her back like a warrior's blade.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my thoughts running away from me.

“The usual,” she replied with a cheeriness that felt misplaced on a battlefield. “Impending doom, thrilling heroics, the works.”

Then the horn sounded, an ominous echo that seemed to trigger the heavens themselves, unleashing a torrent of arrows blotting out the sun.

“Duck and weave, Dwarf. It’s go time.”

“It’s Tim, actually.”

“Tim?”

“Yeah, that's my name.”

She chuckled. “Well, 'Tim', names don’t mean much without a pulse.”

The second horn call unleashed the tide of warriors. They charged, and so did I, my legs kicking up sand as I muttered about the non-existent union for adventure-seeking bards. No time for a breather in this line of work.