Sara’s first adventure in this life began the way that all quests started in her last: long before daylight. The blood moon hung over the Quesca mountains like a lightbulb, slowly disappearing as the sun fought for its throne. Raul and Emma were beside her, and Reck—the leeta she owned—was sitting on her shoulder, pacing back and forth nervously. “You’ll like it,” Sara said, petting his ears.

“You’re officially the Hollywood villain,” Raul said as he loaded his pack onto his monta.

“She is not,” Emma huffed.

“Come on,” he said. “The cat—“

“Leeta,” Sara said.

“—is proof.”

Sara put out her palm and clicked her tongue rapidly. Reck responded, jumping into her hand with the grace of a perched bird. Then she walked to Emma, who squealed and thrust out her arms gleefully. Reck reeahed and leaped into her embrace.

“Now you’re the evil villain,” Sara said.

“Gladly,” Emma giggled, rubbing her cheek on Reck.

“Okay, so it wasn’t the cat,” Raul said with a warm smile. “I think it’s just your—”

“Say my face, and I’ll prove I’m the villain,” Sara said.

“Obviously not. You look like a tired tennis player tops.”

Sara paused, staring into dead space. “Then what is it?”

“Attitude?” Emma suggested.

Raul clapped. “That’s it!”

Emma giggled, sneaking blushing glances at him. Sara noticed and shrugged it off, reaching out her palm toward Emma and clicking her tongue. “Come on, villain prop,” she said.

Reck’s eyes lazily glided toward her. Then they glided back. He didn’t move.

“Traitor,” Sara whispered. “Morning cuddles are out.”

Reck’s fur bristled, and he reeahed, trying to jump out of Emma’s arms. “Nooooope,” Emma said, hugging him against her bosom. “Can’t back out now.”

Sara winked at Reck and climbed onto her monta. “You guys ready?”

Raul looked at Emma and then nodded. “Are you?”

Sara looked toward the castle and shrugged. “No.” She clipped her heels against her monta’s side, and it began trotting. “Come on. It’s a twelve-hour ride to the campsite.”

Raul took a deep breath and nodded, following behind as Emma scrambled onto her monta, trying to get on and hold Reck. Served them right.

2

Sara couldn’t help but smile as she watched Emma trotting through the forest, squeezing Reck, sneaking blushing glances at Raul. Ever since the revolution, Emma was struck with that doubtful introspection that sucks people in and won’t let their minds wander. Yet between being on a three-month trip with her crush, being outside, riding montas, and having a sassy cat-bunny chimera fluffin’ up her arms, she was too overloaded by positive experiences to get lost in her thoughts. More importantly—Sara and Raul wouldn’t let her be sad, even if Raul kept messing up often.

“It’s good to see you smiling,” Raul said to Emma—like an idiot.

Emma’s cheeks reddened as she slowly released Reck from her bosom and placed him on her monta’s back (to Reck’s indignant chagrin). “Oh, you know….” Emma blinked a few times, and then her lips waivered, perhaps understanding—intuitively—that Raul was pointing out how little she had smiled recently. So she flashed him the brightest smile imaginable. “I know I haven’t—“

“You’re leeta’s getting way,” Raul interrupted.

Emma panicked and clamped her hands around Reck (who was not trying to get away, thank you very much). He reeahed his indignation at being first dropped, then squeezed. “Oh, sorry!” Emma cried. Then she looked to Raul with puffed-out cheeks. “Hey! That was—“

“He’s my leeta, Raul,” Sara interrupted.

“Doesn’t look like yours now,” Raul said.

“That doesn’t change that he’s my leeta.”

Emma glanced between them and then said something she clearly didn’t think through, “Can’t he be our leeta?”

“Denied,” Sara said.

Raul laughed with a bright smile and turned to Reck. “Hear that? Your mom wants to keep your love apart.”

Reck reached the end of his wits. He reeahed a battle cry and wiggled out of Emma’s arms, shooting off her monta in a suicide leap. Then he hit the ground, rushed forward to Sara, and then kept pace with her monta, reeahing and begging forgiveness.

“You betrayed me; now you want my love?” Sara asked apathetically.

Reck reeahed, and Raul and Emma laughed—earning them a hiss from the leeta.

“What was that?” Sara asked Reck. “You’re sorry?”

Reck reeahed, ears drooping from Raul and Emma’s laughter.

“Fine.” Sara flicked her hand, creating a ramp of raw mana. Leetas could see mana, much like geese on Earth could see heat pockets, so he casually strutted up the ramp until he was keeping pace with Sara and then jumped into her arms. Emma could see mana, so while she was delighted, she wasn’t confused. By contrast, Raul yelled, “Leetas can fly?” and Emma burst into laughter.

Sara shot Raul a warm smile, enjoying their tag teaming to keep Emma smiling in the moment. It was a great start to the trip.

4

The effort to keep Emma smiling could only go on so long on a three-month trip, and by the late afternoon (when they reached a swamp), everyone was just focusing on surviving the humidity.

“God, I’m hot,” Raul said, letting his arms dangle to his side. He hadn’t complained once, so it said a lot.

Emma perked up when her crush asked for aid. “Really? One sec.” A moment later, she created a pink barrier around them, and a light breeze soothed their skin.

Sara smiled and looked at the malleable barrier, surprised that it bent around large objects like an unpoppable bubble. That wasn’t all that was strange. Insects hit the barrier and stuck to it, walking on it in real-time instead of slipping away. “What is this?” Sara asked.

“This?” Emma looked up. “It’s… how would I put this? An anti-rebound barrier? It’s for training kids. That way, if they swipe at it, the sword gets stuck in it instead of flying back in their face.”

Raul glanced between her and Sara. “And you know how to use this spell because…?”

“The color, Raul,” Sara said, riding ahead. She couldn’t see their expressions, but she imagined Emma blushing and Raul feeling like an idiot.

Things continued like that for the rest of the first day. They took a break near a stream, washing their sweaty faces with clear creek water, sitting against trees. Sara pulled out bags of dry jerky for them to eat. It was over-salted and was hard enough to break a mortal’s teeth.

“What is this stuff?” Raul asked.

“Motivation.”

“For what? To go vegan?”

“To hunt.”

Raul furrowed his brow. “As part of training?”

“As part of living.”

“Oh, no-no,” Raul said, wagging his finger. “Living is being in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and being able to scribble a note that says “steak,” put it into a spatial ring, and then return back in a half hour to find some medium rare meat prepared by royal cooks inside it. That’s living.” Raul pointed a piece of jerky at her accusatorily. “This is masochism.”

“Ah, cry me a fucking river,” Sara said, muttering, “Gonna eat you some poison one of these days,” under her breath. Raul got the implications instantly: you don’t want anyone to have access to your spatial ring’s endpoint, let alone cooks. It made him frown as he grabbed his axe. “So?” he asked. “How do we hunt with… an axe? Do I gotta learn with a bow?”

“The axe’ll work,” Sara said. “It’s good stealth and agility training.”

“You bein’ serious?”

Sara looked at Emma and then at him. “Yeah. Get close, create a wall to block its escape, or just trap it in a barrier. Use a rock spear to pierce its lungs. Trample it with a dozen falling trees. Shit. Do anything except use a fire spell. You’re a murder machine—act like it.”

Raul chuckled and shook his head. “Alright.” He stood up and grabbed his axe and looked to the forest. “I’ll give it a shot.”

That night, they ate rock-hard jerky—but goddamn, did it taste good underneath the stars.

5

The next eight days were much of the same. Sara packed up the tent and supplies while Raul and Emma went hunting for the first few hours. On the mornings that Raul destroyed a sizable section of the forest only to come back empty-handed, Reck heckled him, prancing around and cackling like a hyena who huffed helium. Raul looked at Sara the first time he did it as if she held nightly Satanic rituals in her bedroom and indoctrinated Reck into her grotesque and mottled ways. Sara just said, “What?” and Reck pranced around at Raul’s annoyed expression.

On the third day, Reck got another kick when Raul and Emma returned successfully, only to throw a mangled corpse into the campsite. It was a wilmet—something akin to a boar—but one wouldn’t know what they were looking at unless they were a local. Raul had cleaved it in two (only held together by some estranged muscle) before trees pulverized it. Emma was bright red and breathing hard, painting a story of how Raul had abandoned grace and stealth for a full-on assault. Despite how truly sorry the sight was, Raul still had a triumphant expression.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“You gotta start somewhere,” Raul declared.

Sara nodded. “Though I’m not sure where.”

Raul frowned. “What do you mean, where?”

“Skinning it,” Sara said. “Normally, you start at the belly and just start rippin’. It’s almost effortless. You just pick up the hide like a rug and start cuttin’ at the glue holding it to the muscle, and it tears with the sound of compressed air.” She motioned with the slash and grab, making whishing sounds in sharp bursts to get it across. “It’s really only troublesome once you hit the legs. Then you’d need some help. But….”

Raul’s triumphant smile inverted, becoming progressively deeper as she explained. He didn’t even dare to look at the mangled carcass he brought back, protruding bones from its hide, fragments punctured through the meat like shrapnel. If he was lucky, he’d skin and butcher it for six hours to get one meal.

Sara shrugged and pulled a knife from her belt. “Good luck.” That was when Reck started pouncing around, heckling the beaten, broken giant who was unstable enough to flip into an axe murderer.

Yet by the fifth day, Reck was excited when he heard a terrorizing boom in the distance, only to have the tables turned when Raul returned, dragging an intact horned beast the size of the rhino into the campsite. As she later learned, he had killed it by cracking the ground underneath it, trapping it before taking his time with a rock spear, but at the time, she just said:

“Hey, hey. It seems hunger’s the best teacher after all.”

Raul smiled wryly.

“Come on,” Sara smiled, “I’ll show you how to skin and butcher it.” She looked at Emma, too. Surprisingly—or perhaps obviously, given her profession—Emma turned into a surgeon who skinned and butchered the creature with ease, leaving Raul stunned. But his expression made her giggle, so she exaggerated it, playing this playfully macabre “Emma’s a born butcher” routine that was sickly sweet. It was amusing.

As Emma butchered the second half alone, Sara took Raul through the forest, pointing out herbs, berries, and roots to use as spices. She showed him how to grind and process them at the campsite while Emma finished. Sara then taught them how to cook what she liked to call “wasteland steaks” (the name she gave to anything that wasn’t charred meat) like she was hosting a cooking show. They tasted like shit, as all gamey, just-killed meat did without proper spices, but it was spiced with victory and good living, so they all enjoyed it and went to sleep with full bellies. It felt damn good to be adventuring again.

6

Daniel’s head felt fuzzy as his consciousness returned. He knew he was outside on a hot summer day long before he opened his eyes; the sun was bearing down on him, and he could smell the flowers on the purple jalmina trees in the castle’s courtyard. All his classmates were around, excited about something. Suddenly, they erupted in cheers, and Daniel opened his eyes.

There she was. Emma Cole, wearing silver hero’s armor with rays of sun gleaming off it, contrasting vividly with her flame-red hair. Just seeing her made his heart flutter. She seemed to be a Celtic war goddess, only prettier, alive with the perfect genetics that only rich doctors (who stemmed from family trees of rich doctors) could produce. In ten years, she’d probably be like John Travolta or Frank Sinatra or Mozart—sex symbols of an era with different tastes and cultures and desires. But it was hard for Daniel to believe that future generations wouldn’t look at a photograph of Emma and feel the way that he did. She was twenty-one, prime by most standards, full of life, and going off to investigate mysterious ruins near Lemca—a hero’s quest.

Jason was there, of course. Who could forget? Everyone hated, loathed, and scorned Jason Newborn, but they always knew what he was doing at any given moment because whenever his name came up, the other “heroes” flared up and ranted about the person who poisoned everyone’s cores only to act like the world’s most talented person. That day, he was giving a delusional speech in the courtyard about treasure and wealth and sharing or whatever promises kept his popularity above neutral. It was just another day… until Daniel noticed something strange. Raul refused to look at Jason and Emma’s shining smile was cracking. As always, Daniel turned to Sara as his translator for Emma’s thoughts and found her seething, staring at Jason with malicious intent.

Daniel felt like that sight should’ve invoked a sense of… camaraderie with her. Sara hated Jason (obviously—her ex-boyfriend sabotaged her core with the rest of them while they were still dating), but Sara loved Emma. She always protected Emma, and—to Daniel—that made them… secondhand friends or something. Daniel wasn’t Emma’s friend, but he was her fan in the borderline stalker—but non-delirious—way that fans of superstars and actors become. And since Sara cared for and protected Emma, she was also one of his idols…. So why did he get this… grating feeling just looking at her?

Suddenly, Emma started saying goodbye and hugging everyone, and Daniel got an intense feeling of deja vu. This has happened before, Daniel thought, looking around to try to figure out what was happening. Clues—he needed clues. Clues as to what was going to happen. It had happened. He knew it had happened. But when he looked for things that happened in the future, he hit a black void. Not nothing. Most people search for memories and don’t find them. He found something, and that something was a wall separating him from what was on the other side. Amnesia—a sign of trauma. He had trauma.

Something bad’s gonna happen.

That chain of conclusions wasn’t a leap in logic—it was a slingshot ride. Yet the instant he had that thought, it clicked as if it were a self-evident historical fact, and his mind raced. Amnesia. Trauma. Trying to forget. Emma leaving on a quest. Daniel’s heart pounded, and his mind screamed as he whipped his head around like a cornered animal on a clifftop, clawing for purchase, searching for steady ground.

You…. Daniel turned to Sara for answers again, immediately experiencing that grating feeling. It wasn’t revulsion. It was worse—like betrayal or broken trust. Or perhaps it was something more nuanced: rejection, being forgotten—being ignored. Whatever it was, it felt like someone took sandpaper and slid it across his emotions when he looked at her. Yet, as much as Sara pained him, he could tell that she wasn’t the cause of the panic. Daniel knew who the cause was. He turned to Jason. Just focusing on him made Daniel’s blood turn to steam, inflating his muscles until he thought they’d rupture.

You’re responsible.

That’s the thought that came up. Not, It’s you, or You’re involved—no. You’re responsible. Past tense, already done, something tragic.

That’s when everything came full circle, and he remembered what was on the other side of that wall—Emma’s death. Yet he was there. He turned back time. He made it! It wouldn’t happen again. He turned as fast as he could, searching for Emma. Then his body locked in place and moved on its own, as if he were living a video game cut scene out of his control. Only that “cutscene” was a memory, one that he had relived so many times in the last eight-nine years that it felt like a movie he had watched a thousand times. There they were, yet again, with Daniel turning as Emma passed by him—preparing for their last conversation.

I’ll be fine, Emily, Daniel mouthed silently as Emma spoke to Emily.

“I’ll be fine, Emily,” Emma said, hugging her friend.

I know, Daniel mouthed. But I worry.

“I know,” Emily said. “But I worry.”

Oh, hun.

“Oh, hun.” Emma hugged and squeezed her tight.

As Daniel watched, he became more nervous. He remembered these lines because they happened—he remembered them because Emma was about to die. He looked around, trying to find something to change the situation. Sara! Sara looked nervous—exasperated. He knew that then, too. He needed to—

Suddenly, his body turned from Sara as Emma started passing him. He tried to think of what to say, but his mind started the scene.

Hey, Daniel, he mouthed—

—yet this time, there was a variation.

“H-Hey, Emma,” Daniel initiated.

Emma turned to him, surprised, yet she flashed him that bright smile she gave everyone and said, “Hey, Daniel.”

What a subtle yet profound difference….

Be careful, Daniel mouthed, continuing the “memory” he had looped in his brain for almost a decade. Sara’s nervous… I think something’s wrong.

“I-I-I… S-Stay safe out there,” Daniel said aloud, stuttering with the voice of someone called out on the spot instead of someone with an active stutter. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I mean… look at Sara. She’s pretty nervous.”

Daniel—the overseer—cringed. It was yet another small change that made all the difference. He wanted to stop. He didn’t want to play out the last part or even hear it, afraid that the obvious glaring truth that he remembered so vividly once he was actually reliving it would expose the final thing she said to him as a fraud. Yet, like a religious zealot to a nine-tails, he faced his punishment and watched as he mouthed the words.

Don’t worry, Daniel mouthed. If I die, I couldn’t spend more time with you. There’s no way I’d let that happen. It was a line that didn’t make sense to Daniel—it never did—but it was undeniably what she said. And he was right—it was exactly what she said.

“Don’t worry,” Emma smiled gently and then looked from Daniel to everyone else in the vicinity. “If I die, I couldn’t spend more time with you. There’s no way I’d let that happen.”

She wasn’t talking to me…. Daniel swallowed hard. A convenient detail to forget…. He regained control of his body as she walked away, allowing himself to drop to the grassy ground in the courtyard as Emma mounted her monta—preparing to ride to her death. In his despair, he turned to Sara and felt that grating emotion again. Only this time, he didn’t blame her for Emma’s death. He remembered. He remembered saving her, going back in time, and her rejection.

I have to go. I’ll deny you again later. Daniel felt needles prickle up his arms and legs when he remembered how she had rejected him from her Hero’s Party. ‘I’ll deny you again later.’ You knew. You fucking knew it was me… that I saved your life… that I… brought her back. Yet you wouldn’t even consider it…?

Daniel could feel the hot sun on his back and hear Emma saying her last goodbyes. That’s when he remembered something strange—

—Emma was alive. Unless he was living out a grand delusion, he did succeed in turning back time. She’s alive…. Daniel thought, remembering the summoning ritual. They’re all alive…. he thought. So why…?

Daniel had been pathologically obsessed with bringing Emma back to life for six years before he succeeded. At some point, it ceased to just be about her and became a grander ideal—a fresh start without Jason’s superiority—a start where Emma still smiled, Sara wasn’t chased through hell, and Raul wasn’t executed. Sara had accomplished that for him. They were all safe, and she hovered over them like a helicopter parent. Sara made sure they all got bonafide Golden Cores and even spent time teaching them. So why did he resent Sara so much? Why wasn’t he satisfied? It wasn’t just them. Darius hadn’t become the Butcher of Lemora, and Matt hadn’t become Mary’s….

Daniel’s heart pulsed, and his vision blurred. He immediately searched for Mary, and when he saw her, the black void blocking out his memory rippled, allowing him a glimpse into the future. As soon as it happened, Daniel grabbed his head and screamed, remembering why he put that wall up. It was as though he had just parked his air-conditioned car and opened the door, getting blasted with dry California heat. He could remember…. He could remember full and well why he wasn’t satisfied. Good reasons that he shouldn’t be satisfied. Dark reasons. Daniel had gone deep into debt to learn how to turn back time—and he needed Qualth to repay them.

Sara was masterfully taking care of his big debts by destroying Jason and Mary, and he planned to let her continue that. But he needed that sword to repay his personal debts because the people—or things—he was indebted to were located in the most dangerous corner of Reemada. Since Sara wasn’t going to help him—since he wouldn’t tell anyone why he even knew of these creatures—he needed to get it from her. Which is why he planned to steal it from her but….

Daniel couldn’t remember why it didn’t work.

He could remember going after Qualth with Sara, but then something happened, and he ended up here—back in his memories. Memories he wanted to forget. Memories he needed to push away. Fuck! He couldn’t even think! He needed to close that door again so he could remember why everything went to shit, but it wouldn’t close. It was like there was something was wrong with his head, and they forced him to face his true feelings in a dark and sinuous stream of consciousness.

It all came down to a simple point he couldn’t deny anymore: Daniel Winters went through hell to turn back time and save Emma, but he knew then and knew now that he couldn’t save her. An Emma was alive—but the one he could presently hear trotting off to her death, waving to his classmates with bright smiles—was dead. Jason lured her into a cave, and a basilisk shot poison into her face. It was so corrosive that it was a closed-casket funeral despite all the grim post-mortem healing magic that noble morticians performed to make deceased nobles presentable. That was his Emma. Just because there was a second chance didn’t mean that what happened didn’t happen. Yet it was real if people could pretend, and if he couldn’t, he never would’ve survived that rough and jagged road he walked to get to where he was. He was a master at pretending—locking off the past, letting only enough in to guide him to the next place. He needed that—but it was gone. Something was wrong with his head because it just didn’t work. There was no filter. Even his thoughts were as callous and honest as Sara’s visage.

He couldn’t pretend.

He had to face the truth.

It was a harrowing experience that left Daniel stuck on his knees, staring at the grass, feeling the hot summer heat eight years ago that marked the day Emma traveled to her death. And as he sat there, listening to the cheering around him, hearing the Clack-clack! Clack-clack! Clack-clack! of hooves on cobblestone as Emma and the Hero’s party rode to the north gate, the world blended together, dissolving, breaking apart as if he were waking up from a dream. At that moment, he listened—he truly listened—and heard Jason laughing and calling out to his classmates. And Daniel found that strange. Because he heard people calling out to Emma, Sara, Raul, and even Mary—but he hadn’t heard a single person call out to Jason. There was just cheering and a departure—a natural response. Daniel wondered if Jason also switched small details to suit his narrative. If he did, it would explain how he was capable of doing all the horrific things that he did—

—and how Daniel could live with all the disturbing things he had done to reverse them.