As we left the headperson's office, the weight of everything we'd learned still heavy on our shoulders, we were guided back to the main hall. We found the clerk we had been speaking to before checking over the quest board. The clerk walked over to the citizen registration desk and handed us the forms we needed, his hands moving deftly as he gathered the documents from the polished desk. I watched him for a moment, his calm efficiency almost soothing. After a pause, I decided to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind.

"Excuse me," I began, "what is your name?"

The clerk looked up, a gentle smile touching his lips. "My name is Kibwe," he said, his accent thick and melodic, a resonance that carried warmth. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with deep brown skin and dark, observant eyes. His features were distinctly African, and he carried himself with a quiet dignity.

"Kibwe," I repeated, noting the uniqueness of the name. "It suits you. Where are you from originally?"

Kibwe paused for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly, as though searching for a distant memory. "I don’t actually know," he admitted. "I’ve been here for thirty years, since I was five. My parents said we came from a place far away—a place that no longer exists. I was too young to remember much of it." He smiled again, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

A thick African accent, yet speaking fluently in the language I understood as English. Suddenly, something clicked in my mind. I had never stopped to consider how seamlessly we communicated with everyone here, regardless of where they came from. "Wait, Kibwe," I said, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Are you speaking English right now? I mean, is it actually English, or something else entirely?"

Kibwe let out a low chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It is not the language I was born speaking," he replied. "It is the common language here, which I assume might be similar to your English. When we arrived, we were all given the gift of understanding and speaking it. The magic of this realm grants each newcomer the ability to understand and speak the common language, as if it had always been a part of them. Here we do not call it English, though—just common."

"Why English, though?" I wondered aloud. "Maybe the first people who arrived here spoke it, and it just became the common language." The idea struck me as both practical and unsettling. How much of what we knew, or thought we knew, was shaped by the people who came before us?

"Do you still speak your native language?" I asked, intrigued.

Kibwe nodded, a fond smile touching his lips. "I do. I speak it often with my family. My mother is still alive, though my father passed away ten years ago." His expression darkened momentarily. "He ate something poisonous, and we couldn't get him to a healer in time. Normally, he would have passed ten or fifteen years earlier in our old world. People didn’t live as long there. So in a way, coming here was a blessing. We had more time with him than we ever would have had otherwise." He paused, his gaze distant. "It was also what encouraged my sister to become a healer, so we would have someone nearby if anything like that ever happened again."

We fell into a quiet moment, the weight of his words settling over us. It was a reminder that even in this strange, new world, danger and loss were constants—but so was hope, and the determination to protect the ones we loved.

Eventually, Kibwe gestured for us to step forward, his movements slow and deliberate, almost ceremonial. He straightened his posture, his eyes meeting each of ours in turn, a sense of gravity settling in the air. "If you’re ready, we can proceed with the registry. It will only take a moment."

We moved up to the desk, Alex, Sam, and I standing together with Ana tucked against my side. Kibwe explained the process—fingerprints, a drop of blood, and a spoken promise. He handed each of us a parchment, the words neatly inked in black.

Ana was worried she would have to give a drop of blood but when I asked, Kibwe shook his head gently. "Ana is too young," he said. "Children can become citizens when they turn twelve. For now, she is listed under you, showing that she is here, but she will not be a full citizen until she is old enough."

"The spoken promise is simple," Kibwe said, his voice calm and reassuring. "You are swearing to follow the laws of the land, and if you find a law unjust, you promise to make an effort to change it. We are a new world, learning as we go. It is the responsibility of all citizens to improve it."

I read over the parchment, my eyes pausing on the final lines. "This world is a place free of religious obligation," it said. "The only rule regarding belief is to live and let live. Betray the trust of citizenship, and you will face deportation—a return to your home world. If your home world no longer exists, or is uninhabitable, this will be a death sentence."

Kibwe must have noticed the shift in my expression because he nodded solemnly. "Some people choose to leave," he said quietly. "They prefer to go back, even knowing they will not return to the same time, and that they would have died had they stayed. It is their choice. "

The gravity of the promise settled over me. Deportation wasn't just exile; for some, it was death. The responsibility we were taking on was real, and it was heavy. I glanced at Alex and Sam, who both nodded, their expressions resolute. I turned back to Kibwe, my voice steady. "We’re ready."

I placed the drop of blood on the parchment first, and it began to fill out automatically. The ink swirled and shifted, as if alive, forming elegant letters that spelled out my first name, date of birth, and origin. The lines glowed faintly before settling into the parchment, followed by Ana's name and birthdate.

Next came the spoken promise. As I spoke the words aloud, a seal appeared on the parchment, shimmering faintly. Kibwe nodded, indicating we should press our thumbs to the seal to confirm the promise. Together, we signed our names, pressed our thumbs to the seal, and finalized the commitment. As I spoke the words aloud, I felt a strange sense of connection—not just to this place, but to everyone who had made the same promise before me. We were part of something bigger now, something that demanded more from us but also offered a chance at a new beginning.

Kibwe took the parchments from us, his expression warm. "Welcome," he said. "You are now citizens of Aetheris. May you find your place here and help make it better for those who come after. A copy of this will be found in your Journal. The Journal is a part of your interface—it's where you can keep track of important documents, quests, and notes. It will automatically update as you progress, so you'll always have a record of your journey, but you can create your own entries as well."

We gathered our things, and as we stepped away from the desk, I turned to Alex and Sam. "So, what's next? I'm getting pretty hungry. Should we eat at the market or find an inn? Maybe go back to the Silver Sparrow? I still need to meet Tommy."

"The Silver Sparrow sounds good," Alex agreed. "I also want to stop by the hunters' area after lunch."

Sam nodded. "I want to check out some quests first—maybe see if there are any finding quests that interest me. Then after lunch I will go with Alex to the hunting place."

We all agreed to check the quest board together before heading to lunch. Kibwe, seeing our interest, gave us a rundown on how to find specific quests. "There are icons and color coding to help you navigate," he explained. "Each quest also lists the maximum number of participants allowed, and quests are available worldwide, meaning you can find them at any town hall. You can filter the quests by location or type."

Alex quickly spotted a hunting quest, while I found one focused on gathering herbs. Sam found a quest to locate a lost item. There were even quests for drawing pictures, which I thought would be perfect for Ana. But Kibwe shook his head gently. "Not until she turns five and unlocks her interface," he said.

Ana looked a little sad, her shoulders drooping. When I asked her what was wrong, she signed, "You all have special powers, an interface, and you're citizens. But I'm nothing. It's like I don't exist yet. I can't even take quests."

My heart ached at her words. I knelt beside her, wrapping her in a gentle hug. "You are not nothing, sweetheart. You're almost five, and when the time is right, you'll have all of that too." But I realized I wasn't quite sure how dates worked here, so I turned to Kibwe.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"How do we know when Ana turns five here?" I asked.

Kibwe pulled out the citizen form I had filled out earlier and showed me. "It shows Ana's date of birth on Earth—September 1, 2025. Here, it's Day 10 of Harvestine, Year 45 AB." He smiled reassuringly. "You will learn more about the calendar during orientation, but here are the basics to help you get started."

He handed me a small card with information about the months and their characteristics:

Month Names & Characteristics

Dawnfire: Marks the start of the year, symbolizing beginnings and growth.

Bloomrise: Early blossoms and new growth after the frost.

Stonehold: Celebrated for its clear skies and stable weather.

Rainsong: Frequent rains nurture the fields.

Suncrest: The brightest month, filled with sunshine and peak warmth.

Greenhaven: Flourishing greenery, when crops and gardens grow most rapidly.

Harvestine: The month of harvest, a time of gathering and preparing.

Goldleaf: Golden leaves fall from trees, signaling a transition.

Emberfall: The warmth is still strong, but the early cooling begins.

Ashend: Cold winds arrive, bringing an ashen hue to the sky.

Frostwake: Named for the first frosts appearing on the ground.

Snowveil: Marked by the arrival of first snows in many regions.

Windthorn: Known for cold, sharp winds.

Darktide: The darkest month, when daylight is brief and shadows are long.

Stardawn: Ends the year, a time of renewal and looking to the future.

Date Format: Dates are presented as follows: Day of Month, Week, Year. For

example: Day 17 of Harvestine, Week Two, 50 AB.

I turned to Ana, smiling. "It's Day 6 of Harvestine today, sweetheart," I said gently.

Ana's little fingers started counting, and her eyes widened as she realized. "That's only four days away!" she signed, her face lighting up with excitement.

Alex chimed in, "March matches up with the start of the year here."

Sam nodded, a smile on their face. "I like the names. It makes sense that the end of the year coincides with the end of winter."

We said our goodbyes to Kibwe and walked outside to find that the area had changed. The tension from before had eased, and it felt like a more comfortable place to be. I wondered if the boy we had seen earlier had left, and if that was the reason for the change in atmosphere, or if something else had caused the tension to dissipate. We strolled along, browsing the stalls and talking about things we might need. I wanted to see if they sold notebooks and what kind of writing or drawing supplies they had for Ana. I also looked around, taking in the variety of clothing and the diversity of the people around us. They all looked human, though—when Gil mentioned people from different planets, I had imagined different species, but I didn’t see much difference. It reminded me of where I came from—there was no set "normal," and that seemed to be true here as well.

There were people in western-style clothes, others in flowing togas, and some with bright blue spiked hair. I saw leather outfits, cotton garments, and even some made of silk. I noticed robes embroidered with intricate patterns, and others dressed in simple tunics, some with bright sashes tied around their waists. There were even people wearing elaborate headdresses, and others in layered skirts or trousers with metallic accents. It was a vibrant mix of cultures and styles.

We passed a person being pulled in a wheeled conveyance—like a two-wheeled cart with a seat and two handles, where the person in front pulled like a horse. The passenger wore a hooded silk robe, their face obscured beneath the hood. Maybe they didn't necessarily look self-important, but the image they projected certainly gave off that impression. I made a mental note to ask Harold or Miriam about them when we got back to the inn.

It wasn’t far, but we took our time looking at the items and talking about them. Finally, we arrived at the Silver Sparrow, the clock on the wall indicating it was the 15th hour. We stopped, confused by the clock—so far, we had been gauging time by the sun and when we were hungry, but "15"? Was that like military time, 3 PM? It felt late for how long we’d been out.

We asked Harold about the time, and he laughed, Harold chuckled as he saw our confusion. "Ah, the time system here is a bit different from what you might be used to," he began. "Each day here has 30 hours instead of the 24 you're used to. It allows for a different kind of daily rhythm."

He gestured to the clock on the wall. "So, we divide the day into three main parts: Morning runs from 0 to 10 hours, Afternoon from 10 to 20 hours, and Evening or Night from 20 to 30 hours."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So it's like the day just got longer?"

Harold nodded. "Exactly. People here have longer active cycles, and it affects how we go about work, rest, and all our activities. It's something you'll get used to in time, though it can take a little adjusting." He smiled, adding, "Don't worry, you'll find that the rhythm feels natural after a while. And no, you're not late for lunch—15th hour is still comfortably afternoon."

We took our seats, and soon we were brought a filling lunch. The aroma hit us first—rich, savory scents that made our mouths water. There were roasted vegetables, caramelized to perfection, their edges crisp and glistening with herbs. Each bite was a delightful mix of sweetness and the earthiness of the herbs. A warm, crusty loaf of bread sat in the center, accompanied by a dish of creamy butter whipped with fresh herbs—each spread melting smoothly on the tongue, with a hint of freshness that elevated the bread’s warmth. The hearty stew was thick, filled with tender chunks of meat that practically melted in our mouths, paired with root vegetables that had absorbed the deep flavors of the broth. There was just enough spice to give a pleasant heat that lingered after each bite, warming us from the inside out.

The salad of mixed greens provided a crisp, refreshing contrast, the nuts adding a satisfying crunch, and the tangy cheese giving a burst of sharpness that cut through the richness of the stew. The textures played perfectly against each other—crisp, soft, creamy, and crunchy. The meal was completed with a pitcher of refreshing, lightly sweetened fruit drink. It was cool, with a hint of tartness that balanced the sweetness, and paired beautifully with the flavors of the food, cleansing our palates between bites. Every bite was comforting, flavorful, and satisfying, leaving us with a feeling of warmth and contentment.

After we had enjoyed our meal, I turned to Harold. "When does the lunch rush usually end? We'd love to borrow Tommy again to play tour guide if he's available."

Harold glanced at the clock and smiled. "Around the 16.5th hour. That's about halfway through the afternoon, just after the lunch rush dies down. You should be good to go by then."

After lunch, we decided to go upstairs to freshen up and rest. We told Harold that we would meet Tommy afterward. When I got up to my room, I looked for my watch, the one my father gave me. I pulled it out of my inventory and found that the numbers on it had changed to match this world's time system. I put it on my right wrist and walked out to the common room and sat on the couch, resting my head back. It felt like we were only halfway through the day, but we were already on information overload.

The soft light filtering through the curtains made the room feel calm, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the morning's events settle. We had learned so much, yet it felt like we were just scratching the surface of what Aetheris had to offer. A deep breath helped ease some of the tension in my chest. Soon, we’d head back down, meet Tommy, and begin another adventure. But for now, a few moments of stillness were exactly what I needed.

The muffled hum of voices from the Alex and Sam’s room brought me back to the present. The day wasn’t over yet—far from it. For now, though, I let myself sink into the couch, allowing the quiet companionship of the space to wrap around me like a comforting blanket. This pause, this moment of stillness, was just enough to let the morning events settle and prepare me for whatever came next.