Throughout the afternoon, we hike across the isle like a proper band of fantasy adventurers, scampering across hilltops, slaloming through trees, skipping across boulders that line the fast-flowing river. I can picture the cinematic helicopter shot catching our epic travels overhead as the orchestra swells.

We march onward with a sense of triumph. We don’t meander, unsure of the path forward. We don’t tense at an ill-placed shadow or the errant rustle of foliage. We surge. We fly. And when danger comes our way, we fight.

It probably helps that we’re juiced on potions.

Still, we came into this world traumatized and underleveled. Now, after another run-in with a pair of easily dispatched wolves, we’re all Level 15s - although I’m just over 16, courtesy of all the guard kills. This means we finally have our sweet Level 15 class abilities. For me, that’s the “Unseen” ability. “Grant invisibility to yourself and nearby party members. Invisibility is lost upon damage or an ability is performed. Lasts 1 second per level. May be used twice a day.”

As for the others:

(Luci) Deadeye: Mark a target within line of sight. The next 3 long-range projectiles fired will hit this target, no matter the obstacles. Functional from up to 20m.

(Elias) Inescapable Stance: When activated, a visible ward with a 1m radius is formed around you. All nearby enemies within it are incapable of leaving.

(Ron) Acid Trip: Mute a targeted enemy for 1 second per level. A muted enemy cannot use sorcery-based abilities or attacks. Does not require stamina. Cooldown is 3 minutes.

Seriously, with those abilities alone, I feel we’re sufficiently badass, yeah? We’re also stocked up on draughts. We’ve got rare hard-earned gear. I’m even beginning to look like a proper rogue.

And may I say, a special shout-out to the designers who crafted these outfits. When I looted the breastplate, it looked like a drab, flat-chested piece of armor. Practical, but unflattering. But the moment I pulled it over my head, it transformed into a nice fit with the shape of a corset, fashionable buckles, and a halterneck collar. It’s also breathable, with far more mobility than you’d expect of boiled leather. Complete with the greaves, my jacket, and my new fairy vambrace, I’m lookin’ good. Only a combined fortitude bump of 9, but hey, that’s nearly half of what I’ve got.

Goodbye, Nice Snatch shirt. You were dumb.

My points are also much more evenly allocated. For the last few levels, I brought my wits up to 15 and padded out my fortitude and strength just a touch. Now, no longer will a single attack kill me, though it may place my bones somewhat outside of my skin. My wits should be able to fend off lower level spells, and my resolve should keep me from being swayed by that fire-wielding bitch, if we’re to meet her again. Both my strength and charm still aren’t at even max human levels, so I should probably add a few more points to those when I have the chance.

Same goes for the rest of the team. We’re much better balanced, while still maintaining our main stats.

Best of all, we’re on our way to earning our visa extension. The end is in sight. Or at least, an end. We’ll get a brief vacation. Then off to the races again. But I don’t know. The way I’m feeling, the impossible seems doable.

We hike for hours at a determined pace with only a few sparse breaks here and there: one for fighting, one for food, and a few brief stops for water or a piss. We don’t chat much, and in the silence, I don’t think all that much either. The journey speaks on its own.

Later in the day, as the sun sets and the river slows, our destination reveals itself.

It’s beautiful. As beautiful and vibrant as a painting. On either side of the river, the light of the dwindling sun spins the grass into gold, the rich trees casting long-reaching shadows. And there, in the distance, a waterfall spills from the slope of a hanging valley, cascading in rivulets down tiers of stone, like water slipping through fingers.

Standing above the waterfall, caught between scabrous mountain peaks, is a tower of weathered brick and ivy. Several stories tall and crowned with a spire, it doesn’t seem particularly dangerous or foreboding. It doesn’t leer from the shadows, surrounded in mist, bones rising like weeds around it. It’s just a very lovely stone tower. More like a lighthouse. Just a pretty landmark punctuating a pretty landscape.

“That looks so faaaar,” whines Luci.

“We won’t make it before nightfall,” Elias agrees. “We should camp here.”

Ron lies flat in the grass, hands behind his head. “Alright, man. Time for a snooze.”

“We need to procure firewood.”

“Alright, man. Time to get some wood,” Ron says, rolling back onto his feet.

Evening comes sooner than any of us anticipated. Before we’ve managed to build a fire, the inky violet hues of dusk have bled from the sky, leaving us alone in the black of night. Once we’re set, Elias strikes flint against steel, lighting a candle first. Then he dips the flame into the ring of sticks and kindling until they ignite.

I’ve been camping before, twice in the Michigan dunes, once in the Catskills, each time with college friends, thoroughly intoxicated, over-roasting marshmallows, chucking twigs at racoons, giggling over dumb ghost stories, and banging indiscreetly in our tents. We always did things with such fervor. I never knew how to relax. I didn’t know or even enjoy peace.

Not like this. We sit silently around the fire. Ron is reclined, gnawing on barley bread and aimlessly plucking his new harp. Beside him, Luci braids blades of grass before playfully placing them in his hair. The frog hops along the top of her bag, content to remain nearby. Elias sits cross-legged. His forehead is aglow with those stubborn, contemplative wrinkles.

Beyond us is nothing. We’re on our own little islet, adrift in an starry sea. It’s intimate. And what’s so strange is that I have no inclination to flee. I don’t have that itch that tells me that if I can’t get out of this situation right now, I’m going to shimmy out of my own skin. I feel fine. Like when the air is the same temperature as you are, and you can’t tell where you end and the world begins. I’m just here.

There’s a connection between us, a tether that began as thin as sinew. But then more and more fibrous strings wound around it, piece by piece, fight by fight, look by look, word by word.

We’re not okay. And we may never be completely whole. But, as a party, maybe we’re enough.

Luci nudges my knee with hers. “You’re staring and it’s creepy.”

“Ha, sorry.”

Ron props himself up on his elbows and stares at her. “Hey, is this creepy?” His eyes go cartoonishly wide. “Yeah, am I creepy?”

“Stop. Stop!” she giggles. Flailing, she accidentally flings the frog off her bag. She quickly scoops him up and rests him on her lap.

I laugh. “Why are you keeping that?”

“Afric said I might need him. He’s like my little familiar.”

“And he just survives in that bag of yours.”

She shrugs. “He’s a Level 1. That makes him as strong as we were when we started, right? And I don’t think we’d die just getting bumped around in a bag.”

“Huh. Touché. Does he have a name?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“We should get some sleep,” says Elias. “I can stay on lookout first.”

“On lookout?” I repeat. “It’s called first watch. You know, one day, you’re going to have to tell us what you were before you were an accountant.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Psh,” adds Luci.

“Either way, we need to prepare-”

Luci chucks a wad of grass at him. “Psssh, Tío!”

“Chispita.”

“Oh, come on! It doesn’t matter anymore. Tío, I’m shooting people with a bow and arrow. I’m not, like, going back to school or getting a job or something. Real life is over. It’s just pretend now. The least you can do is tell us a few stories.”

“Your parents-”

“Aren’t here. What did that jackhat say? This is the new reality?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I scratch my eyebrow. “I wouldn’t listen to him.”

“I’m not gonna, like, go all murder spree or something. I’m just admitting that prom isn’t on the table. Please, Tío?”

Elias sighs. “I spent a few years in a street gang.”

“I knew it!” I cheer. “I mean. Ahem. I, um, deduced that it may have been the case.”

Luci leans in. “No way.”

“Which one? Which one?” asks Ron.

“No. We are not going into details. Needless to say, I was young. Carlos and I lived in a rough area. It was one of the many reasons we moved to the States.”

“Whoa, wait. Was my dad in a gang too?”

“He was not old enough. However he was headed in that direction. It was not glamorous, Chispita. Like here, it was necessary to get by. But had I been able to choose another path, I would have a million times over.”

We take a beat to process this. The fire snaps as a chunk of wood splits, and a puff of embers fly.

“This might be weird to ask,” I say, “but… did you fight with knives? Seriously, I don’t want to be rude. Just. If you have any tips.”

Elias thinks for a moment. Then his back straightens as he turns to me. “You are watching your opponent’s weapon too much. In our fight with the others. You should watch their body. The way they pivot. They are not skilled enough to hide their intentions.”

“Oh. Should I be hiding my intentions?”

“You are not skilled enough to try.”

“Burn!” hoots Ron.

“Ron, stop aiming for the chest when you fight. No matter the opponent, you should aim for the legs and arms first. An immobile enemy is easiest to strike.”

“I should be aiming?”

“And Chispita, you must follow through with each attack. I can see that you are dropping your bow arm once you release the arrow. Keep your arm up until the arrow hits.”

“Hold up,” she laughs. “You can use a bow and arrow?”

“No. Following through is standard in all combat.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

“Elias,” I interrupt. “You could have told us this at any time. You should have.”

“I know.” He looks across the fire at Luci as though he’s about to add something. Then he turns back to me, hardened once more. “There is a training facility in Pharos. I suggest we all take time to advance before the next region. For now, we ought to sleep.”

Luci grumbles in protest, but it's clear the conversation is over.

As promised, Elias takes first watch. He steps away from the firelight and into the void. The rest of us lie down. The ground is hard and uneven.

Ron, as per usual, goes out like a light. Luci wiggles like a restless worm.

“You cold?” I ask.

“Uh huh.”

“Here.”

Inventory item removed: (1) Common Cloak

I toss the summoned cloak toward Luci.

“You don’t want it?”

“I’m fine.”

There’s silence. Then Luci snuggles up beside me and drapes the cloak over us both. It’s actually very itchy. But I don’t move it an inch.

I don’t know how long I’m out before Elias wakes me. Of the fire, only ash remains, though the sky is clear enough to see by moonlight. With a groan I can’t stifle, I stand, tuck the cloak around Luci, and begin the most boring few hours of my life.

There has to be some talisman for this. Some kind of ward. God, that alarm spell would have been perfect. You know, depending on how it worked.

For kicks, I try out my Static Decoy spell. Focusing on the grass beside me, I repeat the name of the spell in my head with the intention of casting it. And poof! A few feet away, a perfect image of myself appears. Trippy. It doesn’t move, and it’s not physically present; my hand travels right through it. In the dark, though, it looks sufficiently real. I move farther away from it, just to ensure that it’s the first thing an enemy sees, and resume the most boring hours of my life.

Eventually, the sun makes an appearance. Since I haven’t been attacked yet, my decoy remains to scare the shit out of everyone.

Luci juts a finger at me. “Not cool.”

Ron copies her. “Very not cool.”

Elias doesn’t say anything, but I spot a tiny tinge of a smile.

Title Earned:

First Time Camper: Sleep for 4+ hours outside.

Reward: (1) Fire Scroll Voucher

A scroll? Could be good.

After breakfast, it takes us the better part of an hour to reach the waterfall, as well as the cliffside that we’re meant to scale. Despite the tepid appearance of the waterfall from a distance, it still kicks up a healthy spray. A rainbow glistens in the mist. I’m halfway tempted to scour for a pot of gold, but I’ve since learned that leprechauns are a type of fairy, and I’m not inclined to start that again.

Before the blustering roar of the waterfall becomes too loud, we stop, hands on our hips, and stare up at the slope. It appears to be an arduous bitch of a hike, but that’s it. No actual climbing. Which is a damn shame. Rock climbing is quite literally the only sport I’m half-way decent at. It would have been nice to show off.

As we make our way, another hour passes. It’s a great relief we didn’t attempt this in the dark. First, because we would have died. Second, because it’s beautiful. Beneath the fir trees, yellow primrose and tufts of purple freckle the path. There are spotted deer, hares, and copper-red squirrels. A kestrel takes flight and hovers above us.

When we summit the falls, we gaze back over the isle. From this high up, we can almost see all the way to where we left Glasbaile. Or we could, if it wasn’t for the mist.

It’s taken over the forest now, those thin whisps of cotton snagging on the treetops. At this rate, it will blanket the entire isle of Brasil by tomorrow evening.

“No turning back,” says Luci.

“No turning back,” I repeat.

“Oh crap, do we have to go back to the portal?”

“Um…” Shit, I didn’t think about that. “Ours isn’t the only one.”

Propping his knee on a rock, Ron strums a trio of notes on his harp and sings: “On the isle of not-Brazil. The… hold on.” He picks at a couple of notes in search of another chord, then backhand strums it like a guitar again. “The fog rolls over the hill…”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re playing that right.”

Luci grins. “They climbed the place, killed what’s-his-face.”

Ron plucks a final note. “And win with all their mad skill.”

“Ha, high five!” she cheers.

Ron boyishly slaps her hand, nearly dropping his harp.

I sigh. “We’re doomed.”

Turning, we stroll toward the sorcerer’s lair. It’s close. Just there, across a verdant field. Low-hanging clouds flow quickly over the spire, their shadows passing from brick to brick. The scent of rain carries on the wind.

The tower is much wider than it appeared from below. Taller too. Seems like a lot of unnecessary real estate for a single guy.

Since Elias has the best skill in detection, he takes the lead in case of traps. Cautiously, we poke across the field. Though it’s painfully slow, we make it to the tower without trouble.

Up a mossy set of decaying steps stands a single oak door. Elias tests each stair, then peers at the entrance for an obscenely long time.

Eventually, he stands upright. “It isn’t locked.”

“Then open it,” says Luci.

“It should be locked.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“Look, the guy probably doesn’t need a security system,” I say. “He can use magic and raise the dead. I don’t think he’s afraid of burglars. But um, Ron, you should probably go first, since you got the fortitude.”

“Right-o!” With no hesitation, he tramps up the steps, grabs the knob, and tugs it with such enthusiastic strength that he nearly tumbles right back down the stairs. With a bashful cough, he rights himself before stepping inside. “All clear!”

“Quiet.” Elias nudges past him. After a moment, he beckons us forward.

We file inside. It’s quiet and musty. Like an old bookstore.

The room, obviously, is round. About fifty feet across. The floor is hardwood, the boards arranged in a circle.

There is nothing else. Not even the quintessential spiral staircase you’d expect in a cylindrical tower. Rather, the floorboards end prematurely, leaving a six-foot wide circle carved into the middle of the room. I have to assume it’s an elevator. An ensorceled elevator. In other words, without magic, I have no idea how we’re meant to reach the top.

Luci shakes a cobweb from her hand. “Ew. I don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time.”

Elias runs a hand over the stone wall, still in search of traps. When none present themselves, he moves to the rim of the center circle. He looks up.

“Perhaps it levitates.”

“I got the same impression,” I say. “No idea how to work it though.”

When I go for a closer look, a message pops up.

Detected: Skill too low

“You get the notification?”

“I did. It could be a trap. However it could also be identifying the mechanism at work here.”

“If you’re worried, we could always try climbing the outside,” I suggest. “I think I saw a window.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” Luci bounces over. “So how do we use it? Do we just give it a command? You know, like…” She mouths ‘up’ while gesturing upward with her thumb.

With no warning, Ron makes a running long-jump into the circle. “Trap check time!”

There’s a collective gasp. We wait a moment. Nothing happens.

“That is not a good strategy,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “But it worked, man. C’mon. Hop aboard!”

“Um. Sure.” I tap a toe against the circle, testing its temperature, then join him. “I guess we didn’t come all this way to stand here.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Luci says with a little dancer’s leap.

Elias saunters inside. “If this doesn’t-”

The circle disintegrates, like sand in a sieve.

For a split-second, I’m mid-air. I don’t even have time to flail. Then my feet smack hard against stone, and I immediately crumple onto my ass with a thud.

“Fuck me.” Groaning, I glance up just in time to see the circle mend itself back together.

This is not how one proceeds up a tower.

As I take in my surroundings, I almost laugh. It’s ironic landing here, I suppose. Or karmic. Maybe both.

We’re in the middle of a dungeon, locked in a cage surrounded by cages. But before I have time to really situate myself, I’m thrown backwards as our entire enclosure is suddenly shunted into the wall.

Now, rather than taking center stage, our cage is in line with the rest of the inmates’, making room for whoever invades the tower next.

In the cell beside ours, a cheery voice croaks, “Oh. Oh goodness. Isn’t this embarrassing.”