Hundreds of images surged through my dreams. Gandalf, gray-robed and resolute, stood against a flaming demon on a stone bridge. Spiderman, arms trembling, stopped a speeding train filled with passengers. Atticus Finch, calm and unwavering, argued against prejudice in black-and-white.

Valor wasn’t a foreign concept—it was baked into almost every book, every movie, every video game I loved growing up. Bravery on its own could—and had—gotten me into trouble. It craved recognition, a need to stand out and be seen. But Valor? Valor felt like all that ambition focused through a lens of protection, something greater than myself. It was familiar, even comforting, as if it had always been there, waiting. All those childhood dreams of being a superhero, and now I finally understood what it really meant to be one. To step up, not just for the thrill, but to put power to purpose.

“Three days of spirit trainin’, and now you think you’re Gandalf?” A voice cut through my thoughts like a whip, yanking me back to reality—or whatever this was. “Kid, you’ll never be that freakin’ cool.”

I blinked and found myself in the usual hot tub, staring out at an endless ocean. Ted leaned back casually in the water, a rocks glass in hand. Something red sloshed around in it, and he grimaced as he took a sip.

Knowledge slammed into me. Memories I didn’t realize I’d forgotten. Ted—he’d been training me in my dreams, showing me how to fight, how to understand the runes I’d been using. But this? This felt different. It felt real.

“Don’t give me that look,” Ted said, eying me over the rim of his glass. “You’re learnin’ fast, I’ll give ya that. But—” he gestured toward me with his drink, ice clinking against the glass. “You just don’t got that wizard drip, y’know? No swag, kid.”

“This feels… different. More than a dream,” I said, frowning as I leaned on the tub’s edge. The vast ocean spread out before us, its waves lapping lazily against the base of a jagged mountain.

Ted smirked. “Oh, it is. You’re wicked unconscious right now, I’d bet. Finally usin’ a Seal candidate musta knocked you flat. And guess what? That means we get some one-on-one time. Lucky me, huh?”

I stared down at the water, its surface reflecting the endless sky above. My mind spun with questions, but one thought stood out: if this place was my soul—or some representation of it—what would happen if I fell into the ocean below? Would I wake up, or would I end up right back here?

Ted followed my gaze, his expression unreadable. “You’re thinkin’ somethin’ stupid, ain’t ya? Don’t jump, kid. I don’t feel like explainin’ spiritual dynamics to ya today.”

I snorted despite myself, shaking my head. “I was just curious.”

“Good. Ain’t no cats ever died from bein’ curious, right?” Ted leaned back in the tub, raising his glass in a lazy toast. “Now, c’mon. Let’s see if that big ol’ brain of yours actually learned somethin’, or if I gotta keep shovin’ it down your throat. You heard my voice when you used Valor, yeah?”

Before I could respond, Ted stood up, water sloshing around him. He climbed out of the tub, revealing swim trunks covered in tiny beer glasses. He gestured for me to follow, not bothering to dry off as he sauntered toward the courtyard.

I hauled myself out, dripping and reluctant, but followed. The courtyard was familiar—smooth stone, wide open space—but now it felt different. Dominating the far end was a massive set of double doors embedded in the mountainside. They hadn’t been there before.

The doors loomed, their surface covered in intricate patterns—symbols, glyphs… no, runes. My gaze lingered on the ones I recognized, though most were alien to me. Central to the split in the doors was a sigil I knew well: Valor. It glowed faintly, pulsing as though it were alive.

“Go on, kid,” Ted said, nodding toward the doors. “You know you wanna.”

I hesitated, then reached out. My fingers brushed the sigil, and it flickered like a dying ember before vanishing entirely. I blinked, my hand hovering where it had been.

“What just—” I began, but Ted cut me off.

“Think, genius. Ain’t everyone been rambling ‘bout Seals for the last few days?” He leaned against the courtyard’s edge, arms crossed, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “Using runes your soul’s got an affinity with? That’s the trick. Bridges the gap between you—” he pointed at me “—and that big ol’ hunk o’ meat you call your body back in the physical world. But it takes a lot more effort than that, you gotta keep tryin’.”

I turned back to the door, the memory of the sigil still vivid in my mind. “So, what’s behind them?”

Ted smirked. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. That’s the whole point of a Seal, kid. Openin’ those doors? That’s when you stop bein’ just another chump playin’ with magic and start bein’ a Runebinder.” His grin widened, sharp and mischievous. “Your soul, your runes, your body—all workin’ together. You get a peek inside that window, and you figure out what makes you tick.”

“And to open it, I need to use Valor?” I asked, Ted grinned.

“Bingo.”

I frowned, staring at the now-blank doors. “And what happens if I can’t open them?”

Ted shrugged, tipping his glass as if to drain it—though it seemed suspiciously full again. “Then you keep trainin’ till you can. Or you give up and learn to bake bread or somethin’. Me? I think you’re not the quittin’ type.”

“Ted I already know how to bake bread,” I said. “I thought you’d know that.”

Something in his tone struck a chord, though. He wasn’t teasing me—not completely. The doors, the sigil, even this surreal space—they were all connected to something bigger, something I couldn’t fully grasp yet. But standing here, in this moment, I knew one thing for sure.

I was going to open that door.

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Two sharp jabs to my kidneys jolted me awake. Before I could fully process what was happening, I tumbled off a bed and face-planted onto the cold stone floor.

The chill against my skin shocked me fully awake, my heart pounding as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Pulling a lantern orb from my earring, I lit the small room. It was simple: a writing desk and wash basin against one wall, and the bed I’d just been unceremoniously evicted from.

My eyes landed on the culprit. Red. Sprawled across the bed with his back paws hanging over the edge, he looked utterly content.

“What the hell, Red?” I muttered, pushing myself up.

As if to mock me, Red rolled onto his back, his paws sticking straight up in the air like some huge, furry turkey. The smug bastard took up most of the bed, perfectly content. For a moment, I considered shoving him over to reclaim my spot.

It was strange. Everything that had happened felt so alien, so surreal—and yet here was Red, sprawled out on the bed like he owned it. Something so simple, so familiar. A dog, being unapologetically a dog, in a world that was anything but normal. It was a kind of grounding I hadn’t even realized I’d clung to, and somehow, I’d just… accepted it.

But then I thought about the Arbortrux—the hulking, deadly beast—and how Red had seemingly taken it down. The memory of Stanley flashed through my mind, his tiny canary body transforming into a blazing Phoenix. Was Red like that? Or was he just… a dog?

My body ached in ways I didn’t even know were possible, but curiosity won out—I needed to figure out where the hell I was.

The door caught my attention. It looked… Japanese? A shoji, I thought they were called. Wooden latticework stretched over translucent paper panels, completely out of place compared to anything I’d seen in La-Roc or Rainhaven.

Sliding it open, I stepped into a dimly lit corridor lined with more shoji-style doors. The soft amber of lantern orbs glowed faintly, casting shadows that danced with every step I took. Turning to close the door behind me, I was greeted by none other than Red, panting happily with his tail wagging like mad.

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“Oh, so now you’re interested in exploring?” I asked, crossing my arms. “After kicking me out of bed, you want to tag along, great. Do you happen to know where my clothes are?”

Red cocked his head to the side, tongue lolling out in a way that screamed innocence. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—an answer? A map? Directions?

“Well, shit. Stanley can talk. I figured maybe you could too.” I scratched his ears, and he leaned into it, tail wagging even harder. It was impossible to stay mad at a dog.

With a sigh, I remembered my clothes were in my earring after rummaging around in it. Aha, there they were. Then the realization hit—after pulling the lantern orb, I didn’t have enough mana left to get my clothes.

Shit.

Grumbling, I closed the door and scanned the hallway in both directions, hoping for inspiration—or a wardrobe. My options were slim: either find something to wear or start looking for another curtain… Maybe not a curtain, Cass would never let me live it down.

“Okay, Red, do you know which way you came in? I was obviously unconscious… so where the hell are we?” His tail wagged furiously, and he started trotting down the hall to the right. Was it the right way? Probably not. But at least it was a direction.

The hallway stretched ahead, flanked by more of those shoji-style doors, their polished wood faintly reflecting the dim light. Each likely led to another bedroom, but I wasn’t about to go snooping. Eventually, the corridor resolved into a set of wooden stairs leading down. The sound of trickling water echoed faintly, and as I descended, the space opened into an antechamber.

It was stunning.

A pond, ringed by smooth rocks, dominated the room. Lilypads floated lazily on the water’s surface, and in the center stood a massive bonsai tree, its gnarled branches stretching almost six meters high. Hanging planters suspended from long chains swayed gently from the high ceiling, their greenery spilling downward like waterfalls. A stone walkway bordered the pond, lined with several low tables.

At one of them sat a woman who looked eerily like Cassandra. Her hair was a stark white, her tattoos faint, and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. She wore a flowing red satin robe that reminded me of Erik’s style, and a large teapot and cup sat in front of her. She was reading a thin book, but as I descended the stairs, her eyes flicked up, and she smiled faintly.

“Uh,” I said brilliantly. “You must be Lady Winters?”

She snapped the book shut with a sharp thwack. “Astrid,” she corrected bluntly. “Only politicians call me ‘Lady,’ and that’s usually because they’ve pissed me off.”

Oh yeah. Definitely Cass’s mom.

“Astrid, then. It’s great to meet you—finally. Although, I guess it’s only been a few days, but where I come from, it would’ve been over a week by now. The days here are just so—”

She cut me off with a glance that could shear steel. Her eyes traveled over me, taking in my current lack of wardrobe, and one eyebrow arched.

“I see my daughter doesn’t exaggerate. Do you… enjoy being naked?”

The heat rushed to my face. “Oh, fuck. I forgot I was naked…” I stammered. “My clothes are in my earring, and I don’t have any mana…”

I turned to bolt back up the stairs, but her sharp voice stopped me.

“Oh, piss off with the modesty. Come here and have some tea.” She held up two baseball-sized orbs that glowed faintly, their surfaces swirling with energy. “These belong to you, from the monsters you and your familiar took out yesterday. Consider it thanks.”

I hesitated but approached, taking the orbs. They thrummed in my hands, practically vibrating with raw power. These weren’t just mana pearls—they were something far denser, richer. Each had to be worth at least a hundred pearls, if not more.

Absorbing one was like taking a shot of pure adrenaline. My pathways stretched, the sudden influx of mana pushing me past the comfortable threshold I’d felt at the dam and into an almost overwhelming realm. Not as intense as the Class D healing pill, but it was close.

“Whoa,” I gasped, letting out a shaky breath. Instinctively, my clothes materialized on me, and I even pulled out a small parchment package filled with Katie’s tarts from my earring. The scent of buttery pastry filled the air.

Astrid’s eyebrow arched higher as a grin spread across her face—an expression I’d seen on Cass more times than I could count. “Are those… tarts?” she asked, her voice suddenly curious.

I set the parchment on the table and unwrapped it. She took one, biting into it experimentally. Her eyes widened, and without hesitation, she stuffed the rest into her mouth.

“Oh… mmph. Gaia’s fucking tits, these are good,” she said between chews. I couldn’t help but grin as I poured myself a cup of tea.

“You can stay as long as you want,” she declared, grabbing another tart. “As long as you have more of these.”

I lifted the teacup to my lips, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. Immediately, I choked. Was that… dandelion? Nettle? Oh, Ginseng. It tasted like someone had boiled weeds and called it tea.

Astrid smirked over the rim of her cup, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Tea not to your liking?” she teased, clearly enjoying herself.

Setting the cup down carefully, I did my best not to offend my host. “It’s… uh… earthy.”

Her laugh rang out, rich and genuine. “Oh, I can see why my children like you.”

Red wagged his tail beside me, looking up expectantly like he was waiting for his share. I tore off a small piece of tart and handed it to him, watching as his tail sped up while he devoured it. At least one of us was thrilled with everything.

“Is this your home? The farm?” I asked.

She nodded, wolfing down another tart. “You’re in the estate. The Sentarian brought you and Cassandra here after the roads drained. Your familiar insisted on staying by your side the whole time. Is it true you just met him?”

“Well, sort of… I’ve been feeding him behind Doreen’s in La-Roc for a few days,” I replied, scratching Red behind the ears. He seemed far more interested in the tarts on the table than the conversation.

“Fascinating,” she said, eying Red thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen a creature like that before. Has it been here on the island this whole time, or do you think it came in with a ship? Cassandra said you call it a ‘dog’?”

“No idea! Dogs are closely related to wolves and foxes—I think. They’re extremely common on… uh… Earth.” The mention of home stirred a pang in my chest. Felix had said we could work on getting back once I graduated, but… did I even want to go back? I’d basically become a superhero here.

Tabling the thought, I looked down at Red. “Oh, do you want this mana orb?”

He sniffed it cautiously, then sneezed before turning back to the tarts. Figures.

Astrid chuckled. “If he has any intelligence—and it sure seems like he does—he won’t touch the orb. That’s how monsters are made. I hope someone explained that to you.”

Something clicked in my mind as I remembered Felix’s earlier explanations in the lobby. “Oh! Right, Felix mentioned that. Sorry, Red.” I stowed the orb back in my earring and gave him a pat. He took the opportunity to swipe an entire tart from the table, scarfing it down without a shred of remorse.

Astrid raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Would you like more tea?”

“Fuck n—No, thank you,” I corrected myself quickly, earning another laugh. “What time is it? We were supposed to be hunting in… Riverbend?”

“It’ll be several hours until Cassandra wakes up,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I swear, the girl spends half her life asleep. Would you prefer some breakfast?”

My stomach growled in agreement, loud enough to make Astrid laugh again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, rising from her seat with a grin.

She led us through winding halls from the main antechamber until we entered a lavish dining hall. Instead of the large banquet table I might have expected, several smaller tables were arranged, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and low lounges. Astrid chose one and gracefully settled onto a cushion, beckoning me to sit across from her. Red chose to take up an entire chaise lounge, yawning as he flopped down.

As soon as Astrid and I sat, a Sentarian glided into the room through a side doorway, bowing his head low with his hands folded at his navel. “Amituofo, Mistress. Breakfast was started upon your arrival but will take some time to prepare.”

“No rush, Kerrin,” Astrid replied with a slight wave. “If we still have any Canephora, this would be an excellent occasion for it.”

“Of course, Mistress.” Kerrin bowed once more and disappeared as swiftly as he’d arrived.

Canephora? The name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why. My mind chased the memory as Astrid reached under the table, pulling out a rolled leather mat. She unrolled it onto the table, revealing a grid with points forming a square. A simple but unmistakable game board.

“Elara tells me you’re familiar with Eloquentia,” Astrid began casually, gesturing to the board, “and I’ve heard your world shares some cultural parallels with the Sentarian. It gave me an idea.” She handed me a wooden bowl filled with flat white stones. “Do you recognize this?”

I realized my mouth was hanging open as recognition struck. It was Go. I’d played it endlessly during college and had even spent hours playing with my Aapo back home. She was ruthless—brilliantly calculating for a game that was less about domination and more about subtlety and negotiation.

“I do,” I said mildly, though excitement sparked behind my words. “It’s called Go on Earth. I haven’t played in a while, but I know it.”

Astrid grinned, her expression entirely too smug. “Would you like to play while we wait for breakfast?”

I nodded, and without hesitation, she placed a black stone on the board. I followed with a white piece, settling in.

It was over before it even started. Her moves were devastating—precise and relentless. I recognized the strategy immediately: she wasn’t just playing to win. She was dismantling me, piece by piece, like a masterful tactician. It was the same strategy my Aapo had often used to wipe the board with me back home.

“Well,” Astrid sighed theatrically as she leaned back with an exaggerated air of disappointment. “I guess Earth isn’t as impressive as I’d hoped.”

Before I could respond, Kerrin returned, carrying a large copper teapot. The rich, bold aroma hit me instantly, and my heart skipped a beat. That smell was unmistakable—coffee. Real, vibrant, glorious coffee. The very lifeblood of my existence.

Kerrin poured the dark liquid into a ceramic cup and handed it to me. The steam wafted upward, the scent almost intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, a rush of joy overwhelming me.

“Fuck me,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them. “Thank whatever Gods are out there… coffee exists in the Multiverse.”

Astrid raised an amused brow, her grin widening. “Oh? It’s familiar to you?”

Taking a sip was like a spiritual experience. The brew was delicate yet bold, floral and invigorating, with just the right amount of bitterness. It was perfection, brewed to an art.

“Oh, we have it on Earth,” I said, savoring the flavor. “I drank it every morning—it was a ritual. But it never tasted like this. This… this is masterful.”

Kerrin bowed deeply, his posture radiating humble pride. “This poor butler is grateful for your compliment.”

I finished the cup too quickly, and Kerrin refilled it without hesitation. Each sip seemed to rejuvenate me, easing the aches I hadn’t realized were still lingering.

“Now that I’ve had my morning coffee,” I said, turning back to Astrid with a wicked grin, Bravery sparking to life in my mind. “Why don’t we play again?”

Her grin mirrored mine, sharp and knowing. “Oh, I like you,” she said, picking up a black stone. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you, Breaker.”