Slowly her eyes opened and it was all she could do to not scream.

A thousand life times. A thousand deaths. Stabbed. Cut. Beheaded. Pierced. Melted in the flames of a god. Frozen in a seemingly endless cold. Devoured in acid,

Betrayed by his friends. Betrayed by those he loved. Watching them become consumed by the demon lord. Watching it grow, over and over, like a seed. Finding the weakness in their hearts. Watching the seven of them fall apart, one by one. Until it was too late for him to stop it.

Cutting down the gods themselves in an effort to save them all. Still failing. Over and over and over. Forced to watch, helplessly, like a spectator in her own life. Watched as he made the same mistakes again and again and again. Forced to try again at the end, to look back at a life wasted. To try once more, knowing they likely would fail again.

So many dead. So much pain. So much suffering.

She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She screamed, the sound bursting its way out of her throat despite her struggles to choke it down.

After a few seconds a hand covered her mouth, stifling the scream.

“Are you trying to wake up the whole forest?” a voice hissed in her ear. A man’s voice. “Or maybe you want to get us all killed?” Who was he? Where was she? Wait, she? Who was she? What about him? No, she was she. And he was he.

Then her current life came back to her like a shock of ice cold water. She was a mercenary, a fresh recruit of the Crystal Phoenix. She’d been requested by the client for this mission once they’d heard she’d been made a member. She was the youngest fresh recruit to ever be allowed to join the Crystal Phoenixes. Mainly because, even if she was only twelve, she was already known as an incredibly skilled archer, mage and warrior, with only a handful of graduates who could compete with her in any one area, let alone all three. A prodigy without peer. At least in terms of skill, talent and finesse. She’d always been the ideal student, able to pick up new techniques and abilities after one or two uses, but at least now she knew why. She’d already known them, they’d only just been there beneath the surface. Waiting for the moment when she could handle knowing everything.

They were traveling through the domain of the Troll of Reflections, an evil, wicked beast that…

That she had slain when she was just a child. Hadn’t she? But then why was she here?

New memories fought with old while she lay there, staring up into the darkness, barely even able to feel the hand on her mouth anymore. It felt like her mind was trying to desperately claw out from her body. In each of her lives, the Troll of Reflections had been something that appeared when she was still a child. Slaying it was almost always what drew the attention of the remnants of their world. What had told the world that she was a hero. No, not a hero. She was THE hero. The one who would gather the legendary chosen to her side, who would--

But no. That wasn’t possible. The Troll of Reflections had been terrorizing this region for years. Its domain now spread throughout the entire forest, even wiping out the lord who, in many of her past lives, had called for her to kill it. How many extra lives had been lost to its tyranny because she hadn’t been there to stop it?

No. It was another cost to this world. After all, she had to… to…

A new horror dawned on her and fresh despair flooded in. Despite being a child, she was a renowned magic swordswoman. But that hadn’t been what she had chosen. She’d wished to come back as a swordswoman. On top of that, she was also a perfect archer, at least by their standards. Wait. Why was she a girl? That hadn’t been a part of her wishes, had it? She tried to push that thought away and focus on the important things. She wasn’t a swordswoman, she was a magic swordswoman. In fact, she wouldn’t be where she was now if she hadn’t. Without the use of magic to reinforce her body, she’d have been too young to be allowed to join the Crystal Phoenixes. They likely would have demanded she wait longer and train her body more.

Which meant this was another attempt to set things right.

Which meant, once more, she had failed. She had already failed once in this new attempt. Oh by the gods, why? How many times had she failed? How many times had the world burned? What had she done wrong this time? She thought this was supposed to be her final attempt and yet she had obviously failed already. Had Fate bent the rules for her once more? Or had she found a way to try again even after death?

She was only slightly aware that someone was speaking to her. The hand on her mouth slowly lifting away. “Kid? You okay?” a voice whispered in her ear. “Listen, if this is too much for you, you can go back. We’ll take him. We never should have brought you, anyway.”

Who in the world was he? Wait, she knew this. Rab. Five fingers Rab. He was a dwarf, a skilled archer, survivalist. Probably one of the deftest pickpockets around, if what the others in the company said was true. She doubted he’d hold a candle to Chase, though. Rab was an old hand for the mercenaries. A good man, kept an eye out for the rookies like her. But she WAS still a rookie, prodigy or not. Why was she--

Because she had been requested. She had to barely contain a squeal of glee when she realized WHY she was here. Why she, of all people, had been called. Because it was likely what had triggered the return of so many memories.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

She glanced around the campsite which was dimly illuminated by a small flame, a few pieces of timber the only thing keeping it alight. There were two more bedrolls by the fire. One held a sleeping elven woman by the name of Lyndis, Rab’s apprentice. But the last bedroll was empty.

Slowly her eyes moved up, away from the fire. A figure was standing in the darkness, just far away enough so he could avoid becoming fire blind.

Hardwin. Or, as most had known him, Hardwin the Ferocious. In the vast majority of her past lives he was not only her dearest friend, but also fiercest rival and one of the only two companions she had who had never become the demon lord. In almost all of her lives he had been the first to draw his weapon, a legendary blade that was said to be able to cut through the toughest armor with but a flick of the wrist.

“Joan? Can you hear me?”

It took her a moment to remember SHE was Joan. She looked to the dwarf, staring at him. “W-what?”

“You don’t look good, child. I want you to head back to base. We’ll guide him from here.”

“Head back to...” Her eyes went wide when she realized what he meant. She had been specifically requested by Hardwin to come with them. After all, he wanted to see this fresh faced ‘prodigy’ he’d heard so much about in action. She wondered if he had felt the bond they shared, or perhaps something else? “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I… I have to come.”

“You won’t be if you wake up screaming like that again. What got into you?” he asked, shaking his head.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped herself. If she told them the truth, they’d think she was mad. They’d definitely send her back then. She couldn’t leave Hardwin, not now. She had to find all seven of them. “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, you had a bad dream?” Lyndis’ voice rang out, making her cringe. “Child, you’re one of the Crystal Phoenixes now. More than that, you’re on a mission for possibly the most important person you’ll ever meet. Do try and not make the rest of us look like fools.”

“O-of course, my apologies,” Joan said, unable to keep the redness from her cheeks. The elf laid back down, but the dwarf didn’t move from her side.

“Do keep quiet, lass. That’s Hardwin. If you anger him, he’s liable to strip the flesh from your bones and hang it out as a warning to others.” With those words, he turned and made his way back to his own bedroll, collapsing onto it. Within a few moments, the snores of her two companions filled the air once more.

She couldn’t sleep now that she remembered everything. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to sleep again. Her gaze shifted back to Hardwin. When she had been assigned to this mission a few days ago (though it honestly felt like centuries had passed) she’d been terrified, for good reason. The rumors that had spread about him were horrifying. Tails of murder, torture, an unquenchable rage that burned like flame.

Now, with the memories she’d acquired, the entire idea seemed laughable. Across the thousands of lives she’d lived, she could remember only a handful of occasions that he had ever truly lost his temper and gone into a full rage. None of which he could have ever been blamed for by any but the most saintly of figures. Yet those same rumors always seemed to spring up about him, as if he was some great monster.

How many times had she tried this, now? Twice? Three times? Was this her dozenth attempt in a new body?

No. Probably not. She had always been most comfortable with blade in hand. For her to have chosen blade and spell, there had to be a reason. And enough felt similar to her choices that it had to be an early attempt. She glanced down at her body and felt a small blush creep into her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was a maiden, though. A part of her felt annoyed, but only soft hints. If she was completely honest with herself, she was more upset she hadn’t been warned than the fact she was one now. Something about this felt oddly comforting.

She shook her head, trying not to dwell on that. It had been a few lives, for certain. This was at least her second try. But the difference between the first and second was that, now, she KNEW this was her second try. Which meant she had failed the first time. She didn’t know HOW she had failed, but she could still use that to her advantage. In her lives in the hero she had no idea that she was attempting multiple times to fix things, this time she could use the changes to try and identify how many mistakes she had made in the end, rather than just blindly going forward and hoping for the best.

First she had to get Hardwin to understand her and turn him to her side. But how? She knew him better than anyone else. Had lived with him for a thousand life times. Had seen him at his best, his worst. The two were like brothers. If anyone could manipulate--

It hit her like a slap across the face when she finally understood where she had messed up. How many times across all of those lives had she taken on all the burdens herself, refused to let the others know the truth until it was too late? How many times had she tried to sacrifice herself, only for everything to go badly in the end? She’d always been the hero and believed that everything had to be shouldered by her.

She’d made the same mistake again. That was why this was happening, why she had failed once more. If she wanted to fix things, she had to do what she had never done before.

Slowly she got to her feet and, quietly as she could, she made her way towards the figure in the darkness.

“Oh ho? Having trouble sleeping, prodigy?” Hardwin’s voice came out, harsh and gruff. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, best get what sleep you can.”

“I don’t think I could sleep anyway. I’ve got a lot to talk with you about, Hardwin. I’m not sure you’ll believe me, anyway. At least not at first. But I’d be eternally grateful if you’ll hear me out.”

There was a light chuckle from the man. “Are you willing to pay the price?”

“A mug of ale and a pat on the back? Ayes, I think I’ll pay.”

The laughter died then and she could barely make out the head turning towards her. “Who told you?”

“You did. A thousand times, old friend.” She felt a small knot forming in her stomach. She prayed to the gods that he would believe her. They were still here. Perhaps, this time, they’d remain.