Oliver couldn't’ sleep. The only sound in Staharad’s tower came from some animal going through the garbage outside and a steady snore from the wizard in his bed a floor above.

But what kept Oliver awake was Elstina. She lay on the couch, and he was on the floor. He gave into temptation and moved to her side. The thin moonlight lit her stomach. She was still in the clothes she would wear under a dress.

“What are you doing,” she whispered.

He withdrew and laid down. He was a sleepwalker, right? Ugh, she must be revulted. Why did he do that?

When he fell asleep, he couldn’t say, but when he blinked, the light blinded him, and a woodpecker tapped some tree—it might as well have been his eardrum. He found her making a cup of coffee for the wizard.

She took a kettle from the stove. “I want to hate him, but he seems like a nice old man.” She was concerned about him being a Player. “I’ve heard what they do. It seems like a crime to even let one exist.”

“We’re not that different,” he said. Hunter had opened a character display after watching him, so perhaps she could to. The blue light of the display caused him to squint.

She only stared at him, and after a few attempts, she opened hers. “It’s says I’m a divine caster. That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. The Tower of Leaves is like a ladder to Tezkaldrich. In the tower, I can make elixirs. My ancestors used His power to create Mistglass like we used to get to the inn.” She brought the coffee to Staharad and tilted it to his lips.

The wizard gulped and sputtered. “Thank you.” He tried to roll out of bed but groaned.

She looked at the mass of scabs on his shoulder and chest. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“About that,” Staharad said. “You need to bring me to Lord Heron. I need to tell him about Oliver.”

She pushed him down and put a hand on his forehead. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Damnit, girl. Get me dressed and out of this place before I turn you into a lizard.”

She laughed. “I don’t think you can turn people into lizards. The only story I’ve heard about you is when you stole King Hakam’s treasure.”

Staharad grabbed her shoulder and stared. “This isn’t about me. The one who will end you all is coming. Lord Heron can help me spread the word like no other man can.”

They didn’t argue. Instead, they wrapped Staharad in a blanket and struggled to get him on the horse behind Oliver. She wore one of the wizard's old cloaks, and the sleeves fell over her hands. They plodded down the mountain in the damp morning.

The quiet shattered when they entered Credola's bustling streets and made their way to the Crimson Pike Guild. Staharad leaned heavily on Oliver, his face pale and etched with lines of pain.

Elstina dismounted and helped the wizard down. She led the horses to the stable while Oliver helped the old man to the front door.

Lord Heron stood at the entrance with arms crossed and a stern expression. His gaze flickered over Staharad's weakened form before settling on Elstina. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Why have you brought her here?"

Oliver stepped forward. "Staharad requests that he stay here while he recovers."

Lord Heron's eyes narrowed at Elstina. "And why should I allow an elf of her standing to enter the guildhall? She’s the daughter of the Malarite Crown."

Elstina met his gaze evenly. "My mother’s domain is of the spirit, not the city. And she doesn’t care where I am."

Lord Heron shook his head. "Your mother has every king in the south on a leash. The politics between our people are... delicate. And Oliver, I thought you might be a womanizer, but I didn’t think you were crazy."

Oliver stood dumbstruck. A womanizer, me? I have a fucked up face.

Staharad lifted his head weakly. "Lord Heron, please. Elstina's presence is inconsequential. There are matters of grave importance we must discuss."

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The guild leader hesitated. His expression conflicted. "Very well, come in quickly and up the stairs. The less you’re seen, the better.”

Elstina stepped forward. "We need to speak openly about the Players and the NPCs."

Staharad took a deep breath, summoning the strength to address Lord Heron. "A man is coming.” He explained the cyclical nature of reality. “He’s conquered your world a thousand times. But this time, he means to destroy it."

A silence hung between them.

Lord Heron paced. "You expect me to believe we're all pawns in some cosmic game?"

Even though Elstina knew the truth, she didn’t accept Staharad’s warning. "My mother could destroy any one of these Players. They are not dangerous to the temples or kingdoms, and certainly not Credola."

Staharad shook his head gently. "Elstina, you underestimate them. While your mother is powerful within her domain, some Players will rise above her. Right now, they’re screwing around, but they gain power relentlessly. And this man, Coda, has been granted godlike abilities. He is far away now, but the day will come when he arrives, and with him, extermination."

Lord Heron cradled his head in his hands. "Why is this making sense?"

“You’re becoming sentient,” Oliver said. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Correct,” Elstina said. “The elves used to strive for it. We called it enlightenment, but Tezkaldrich came to my mother in a dream and said it shall doom us to mortality.”

Oliver sat next to the wizard. “That part is true. I met one of us who said he was reborn old.”

Staharad leaned back to take the pressure from his wounds. “It’s because you’re becoming more like us. Don’t look so shocked, Lord Heron. I am a player. I’ve done things. Unimaginable things. You’d put me to the sword for right here and now if I told you what I’ve done. But I didn’t know you were real people. None of us did.” He looked at each in turn. “I believe these are crimes we have to answer for.” He paused, nodding to himself. “Time works differently between worlds, so in a sense, the Players are ancient, nearly immortal as you’ve been. The difference is they’ve spent that time honing their skills. That’s why Oliver surprised me. He’s tapping into powers I believe could rival Coda’s if he trained properly.”

Oliver understood most of what the wizard said. He still wondered how a god told the elves the sentience and mortality of the NPCs. “Staharad, what kind of entity is Tezkaldrich?”

“I don’t know. There are the primordial beings, things that predate the singularity like the Oberver and the Universal Constructor, but I’ve suspected they’ve built a hierarchy below them. If there are gods here, they may be real.”

Elstina put her hands on her hips. She still looked ridiculous in the oversized cloak. “Sorry, but I’m taking no one’s word on this. I want to see this man with my own eyes.”

She shocked the room, especially when she said how she would do it. “Come on, Oliver.”

They walked to the inn. They entered the cellar and found the mirror they’d taken yesterday.

“This is Mistglass?” he asked.

“Yes, and finely made.”

The Hall of Mirrors looked empty. Flickering candles reflected everywhere. Oliver wondered how many words this place connected to but didn’t want to make a sound.

Elstina moved gracefully toward one of the larger mirrors, her reflection distorted amidst the swirling visions. "This one," she murmured, placing a delicate hand on the frame. "It’s from beyond the Doldrums, though. The barrier is windless and haunted. No one can cross, save for with the aid of Mistglass, but I sense great distress from the other side."

Against his better judgment, Oliver followed her into the portal.

They tore away the overgrowth of vines and bushes. The portal stood in a recess on the ruins of a stepped pyramid. Steep stairs led them into a dense forest on the trace of a path. They followed it until open land came into view. Smoke billowed from a cluster of towns on the horizon.

“I think we should turn back,” Oliver said.

“No. I must know.”

They walked for an hour and another. The smoke took up the dimming sky. The smell of barbeque reached their nose, but they soon found charred bodies scattered around burned-out thatched buildings.

Beyond the towns sat a city on a hill. She kept going.

“If we find him,” Oliver said. “He’ll kill me again.”

She stopped her march. “He killed you?”

“He says he’s killed me over and over.”

“I must see what’s coming to warn my mother. I can’t give her second-hand information.” She Picked up her pace. The city grew near.

The man stood before the city. His voice thundered, “How many are you?”

Oliver and Elstina crouched. The wind whipped the sea of grass that stood above their shoulders.

“Ten thousand,” a man yelled from the wall.

“Barely worth my time.” A surge of dark energy erupted, obliterating the walls and wooden towers.

The darkness consumed the hill, and people ran. One fell into a fire and spread flames, which licked at a hay cart. Screams erupted from the city, and the man who caused it, Coda, walked away as if he knew his magic would finish the job.

Elstina stared at the destruction. "It’s horrible. What is this power?"

"Staharad is right," Oliver said. "No one can stand against him alone. He hardly moved a finger."

She turned to face him, a hint of defiance in her eyes. "My mother will know what to do. She’ll stop him before he even gets to the doldrums."

Coda paused. He would be unable to hear them at the distance and with the wind howling, but he turned his head towards them. “Hmm,” he smiled and walked away.

The return to the Hall of Mirrors led into the night. The sounds around the stepped pyramid stood the hairs on Oliver’s neck up, but he dared the pitch black with his swordstaff ready.

They slid through the mirror.

A shadow moved behind reflections.

Elstina nodded, her gaze sweeping the room. "We're not alone. Someone is here who doesn't belong."