"So what happened with Carol?" I ask Sam as the three of us lower the corpse into a freshly dug grave. Never thought that the dead folks originally residing at the station would have a new roomie so quickly.

"She died in her sleep." Sam says sadly, "Carol's body was cold when I went to check this morning."

Sam chokes back a sniffle and pulls out a tissue to wipe his tears. The station stands silent in the background, keeping the truth to itself. And all around us, the snow keeps falling.

"I couldn't find Buddy." James frowns as we begin sealing the grave with rocks and soil, "I thought that we could at least bring Buddy back home. Carol would have wanted that."

"The fox would have run off," Sam looks into the nearby forest, "the moment Carol passed away. The ranger companion link would be broken and Buddy would have no reason to keep staying with us."

"Yeah." I grunt. Sam's guess is pretty much on the dot. The moment Carol went to sleep permanently, Buddy jumped to his feet looking all confused. Then the fox just bolted out of the station as if we were all strangers. I saw no reason to let Buddy go, his intellect would quickly regress to animal baseline now that his ranger companion was fertilizer. Buddy wasn't telling anyone about what happened that night.

My secret was safe.

"He's probably happier in here doing fox things," I comment, "being in the wild. The city would always be a strange place for an animal."

"Its just so hard!" Sam suddenly breaks down, crying, "Carol was right there with us and none of us helped her!"

"None of us knew." James pats Sam on the back, "Its no one's fault."

"Maybe if I took one of the earlier shifts, I could have prevented this." Sam mutters disconsolately, staring at the now covered up grave.

"Don't torture yourself." I say in as sagacious tone as possible, "None of us could have expected this to happen."

As the voice of my heart had explained, Carol was finished. Sam's magic was not enough to make a difference. I was merely taking out the trash so to speak.

"There." James plants Carol's rifle barrel first into the earth, turning the weapon into a makeshift headstone. An air of finality settles over the station. Its time to say goodbye.

But neither James nor Sam are quite ready to leave yet.

"We should say a few words." Sam murmurs, "Something to remember Carol by."

"You knew her best, Adam." James looks at me solemnly.

"Carol, yeah," I look up into the sky, racking my brain for something to say, "this was actually our first assignment together. But I've been a fan of hers for a long time."

"She was the Guild's champion sport shooter." Sam nods slowly.

"Carol was an amazing person." I scratch my head ruefully, "And I suppose she still is. Thanks to her, I didn't need to let go of my dreams."

"That sounds pretty personal." James says.

"It is. It is." I sigh in resignation, "Carol and I were, well, we weren't friends. But sometimes, you can share things with a stranger that you can't with those closest to you. Get what I mean?"

"I think so." Sam's eyes grow distant as he stares at the erect rifle, "Family can be complicated."

"So I'll always be grateful to Carol." I clasp both hands together in prayer, "That's all I got to say, I guess."

"Heartfelt." James smiles approvingly, "I like it."

"Carol also had the hots for you." I smirk wryly at James's surprised expression at this revelation.

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"That was no secret." the sorrow on Sam's face only deepens, "James is just dense."

Sam and I share a chuckle at the growing embarrassed flush on our companion's face as we walk back to the station to pack up the last of our luggage. The journey back to the portal promised to be difficult. Not only were we one person short, there was also the added burden of the life support capsule to contend with. We would be leaving most of Carol's stuff behind, it was the only way to make good time back to the city.

At least her ghost wouldn't want for clothes. Or would she even have a ghost after I absorbed her potential?

"Why did Carol always compete with that weird gun in tournaments?" James's asks while folding up his sleeping bag.

"Weird gun?" I raise an eyebrow, not sure of what the question means.

"That pistol thing, that was not a pistol." James makes a go at describing what he's referring to, "Looked more like a rifle."

"Oh that." I grunt, "That's a carbine pistol. Pistol converted to act like a rifle. Its one of the categories in the shooting tournament."

"Carol always aced that segment." Sam speaks up from his corner, "I remember the Guild newsletters always announcing her as top scorer."

"Guess that explains your own gun," James continues, "right, Adam?"

"Right." I reply vaguely, my attention drawn to my holster sitting next to the rucksack. When I entered Winter Rift, it was made of cheap leather. The leather is still there, forming the belt. But the holster itself has changed. Its now made out of polymer and more than double its original size, resembling a case.

Picking up the case, I flick the lid open and find Love nestled securely inside, along with another surprise. My fingers grasp a rod and pull it out of the case into the light.

Barrel extender.

Retrieving Love, I check the rear of the gun's grip and sure enough, there's a slit cut into the plastic. My hands move about in a practiced fashion, flipping the polymer holster about and sliding the grooved end into Love's grip.

Pistol shoulder buttstock.

The barrel extender is screwed on and Love now rest's in my hands, a competition ready carbine pistol.

"You must really like sport shooting," Sam says, "to bring your kit around with you all the time."

"It comes in handy." I reply, my mouth going dry. Love's got a nice upgrade alright. Nowhere near its original form, but spiffy nonetheless. But my eyes are locked on to the end of the buttstock, where the serial number has been etched.

The exact same serial number of the buttstock that headless station corpse had with him. No two serial numbers are alike, otherwise the factory would not be able to keep track of the number of units they produced. For a mass produced item like this furniture, the numbers are always etched in ascending numerical order, without any exception. And this means one thing.

That headless corpse was holding the exact same weapon I am holding right now. A promised future from another dimension. For the first time this morning, I have to shut my eyes to block my tears from flowing out.

What have I done to myself?

"I'm sure you'll do Carol proud, Adam." James reassures me, but his words merely add to my bitterness. I had helped Carol reach the inevitable end.

And she just might have done the same thing to me.

.........

The pair of men stand before the shimmering portal, unwilling to step through.

"Brother," the Gunslinger hesitantly addresses the Sniper, "there will be questions asked. About why we failed."

"The magi are still needed," the Sniper finally manages to say, "And we were also misled as to the enemy."

With that the Sniper and Gunslinger step through the portal, emerging into a blazing desert, a stark contrast to the Winter Rift. Both men shuck off their winter clothes, revealing skin that had been charred black in places. The clothes are tossed into a jeep left parked nearby and both men set off along the dusty road, with the Gunslinger driving. In the horizon is a blazing inferno, an eternal flame that burst to life when the Starfall struck an oil refinery. Against the ferocity of the lapping flames, even the cold of the Winter Rift has to yield.

"Feels so much better to be out of that blasted snow." the Sniper sighs in relief, "Take us back to Blessed Baiji. We need to inform the Khan of what happened."

The jeep swerves off the road and makes a beeline straight for the inferno. Without hesitation, the Gunslinger plunges the vehicle straight into the flames, the warmth nourishing both him and his passenger. Both men make small moans of pleasure as the fires embrace them.

The Fire of Baiji. The blessing Starfall left behind in its wake. Just as fire can kill, it also grants life. But one must first learn to master it.

All along the path to the refinery charred corpses, petitioners who wanted the power the Fire granted, but ultimately could not bear the pain. The Brotherhood had a simple rule. All were welcome, but they must prove their worth by fire. Literally.

The Sniper clenches his fist, letting liquid flames ignite from the scars on his skin. The Fire of Baiji's power nearly killed him at first. Then it merely hurt. Now, the Sniper was raised by the Fire from a Third Class talent to a high Second Class. That was what allowed him ascend beyond being a mere gunslinger.

"That man in the Rift." the Gunslinger asks uneasily, "You don't think -"

"He was burned by the Fire before." the Sniper says firmly, "We all smelled it during the battle."

"Phoenix Guild." the Gunslinger muses, "That's where Latour brought him. Coincidence?"

"There are no coincidences." the Sniper grins, "Especially where the occulted one is involved. The Fire of Baiji is meant to cover the whole world."

"And a spark has already been set, right under our enemy's nose."