Ted quizzed Jeremy relentlessly on the way back to the village about magic. If he was going to survive in this world, he had to be as powerful as possible, and Jeremy’s expertise wouldn’t be coming with him when he left.

He needed every scrap of knowledge he could get his hands on to better understand his options and optimize his development. Not that his stat line left him much choice other than to focus on magic.

The risk of death casting high-level spells was certainly a pretty big downside, but that had to mean high-level magic was incredibly powerful, right? Why else would anyone be a caster?

How well magic scaled would be key to his growth. Hopefully, it was akin to quadratic casters and linear martials from certain RPGs on Earth. If so, power would come, it would just be a matter of getting there.

Ha! As if anything would ever be that good without a serious side helping of “screw you, Ted”.

Why hadn’t he met any pure casters yet? Even Jeremy had a gish build, combining magic and archery. Was magic balanced around Heroes able to come back to life? Or did the wood elves simply have less mages than other races? Reltan had mentioned that much magic had been stolen, but he’d been rather circumspect on the details.

Whatever the reason, magic was still literally magic. Even if high-level magic was dangerous, any spell with a hundred percent stability would go off perfectly every time.

Well, every time that you weren’t sprinting away from a gorilla, dazed by a magical shout, wearing too much armor, or whatever other bullshit reduced spell stability.

As they climbed aboard the lift back up to the village, exhaustion tugged at Ted’s mind, demanding that he get some sleep.

Soon.

“Magic Resilience scales linearly with level, and magical damage is divided by Magic Resilience, right?”

Jeremy nodded. “Broadly correct.”

“Damage scales linearly with Intelligence, but so does HP with the stats that affect it. So stat growth cancels out but magic causes less damage as you level because of Magic Resilience?” Ted frowned. That didn’t sound right.

No response came back from Jeremy, not beyond his lips pressing together into a half-smile waiting for Ted’s poor, tired brain to work it out.

What would let damage keep up with resilience? He could feel the answer right there, waiting for him to grasp it, just out of reach. What was it?

Perks! Right, of course. Skills increased spell stability, but perks could increase damage as well.

Given the prohibition on using Fire magic in the Forest, he didn’t intend to spend the Fire perk point he had yet, but he checked out the perk list again.

Stability (0/5): Increases stability of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Power (0/5): Increases potency of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Quick Cast (0/5): Increases casting speed of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Critical Chance (0/5): Increases critical chance of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Critical Severity (0/5): Increases critical severity of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Cast in Motion (0/5): Decreases the accuracy and movement speed penalty from casting Fire magic while moving by 20% per level.

Given the similarities to the weapon perks, it was reasonable to presume other magic skills were similar, with any fancier options locked behind higher-level perks. Still, basic or not, they looked effective.

Ted’s frown faded away into a smile as he considered the possibilities. “Perks let the damage keep up. There are skills and perks to increase Armor, but not Magic Resilience. And then you have the ability to cast more powerful spells on top of that—doesn’t that make high-level casters overpowered?”

Jeremy’s eyebrow raised, and his nod could almost be mistaken for genuine approval. “High-level casters are incredibly powerful and dangerous, both to themselves and others. Casters who reach those heights tend to keep to their studies, using their full power only when essential.”

Studying and using their power only rarely was a far-off luxury to Ted. He nodded, satisfied that being a caster was the right path. That left the question of his profession skills.

Infuriatingly, especially given their response to Cara’s choices, everyone kept saying to choose what he wanted. Whatever taboo there was about helping someone plan, maybe Jeremy would be willing to break it.

“Would you recommend I become a Spellcrafter?”

Jeremy looked Ted up and down and took a long, deep breath. “It’s dangerous. Miscasting a low-power spell won’t kill you. Even the simplest mis-crafted spell might.”

“I figured.” Hopefully, the price of dying wouldn’t be too high. “I’ll level it faster than most, though, won’t I?”

With a heavy sigh, Jeremy nodded. “You will. Usually, I’d never recommend any profession, let alone Spellcrafting, but you’ll find danger one way or another. When you do, you need to be prepared.”

Be prepared. A motto to live by. Well, hopefully live by, anyway. “Spellcrafter it is, then. Don’t suppose you know any?”

“No,” Jeremy said, quieter than usual. “Spellcrafter life expectancy is rather short for a wood elf.”

Ted gulped, and a somber silence took hold. Not exactly an encouraging reply, but it wasn’t news either.

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As the lift reached the top, Cara came into view. She was sat on a stool, hunched over with a knife in hand, lost in her own little world carving a piece of wood.

A strange, almost pleasant, feeling poked at Ted’s insides. Had she been waiting for him?

Remembering Reltan’s friendly greeting, he stepped forward, his hands wide and open, palms outstretched. “Hey, Cara.”

Cara’s head jerked back. Her wide, startled eyes met his, and a smile lit up her face. For one fleeting, beautiful moment, the world felt alright. Good, even.

Then her gaze flickered down. The smile fled, chased away by flared nostrils and a scowl. Cara sprung to her feet, grunted, and stormed away.

“What did I do?” Ted asked, turning to Jeremy with a frown.

“That greeting. Where did you learn it?”

“Reltan.” Ted paused, reliving the memory and wondering if he’d misinterpreted it. “I guess it’s not as friendly a greeting as I thought?”

“It means, ‘my hands are empty, I mean you no harm.’”

Ted mentally kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Ah. No wonder she’s mad.”

“Go. Be at the meeting at sunrise. Bring her too.”

Ted nodded and headed home, heart in his throat. Cold air nipped at his ears as he walked through the treetops, thinking through all the ways the conversation could go. Thinking about that smile.

He bit at his bottom lip and reminded himself he wasn’t staying. Not in the Forest, not in this dumb, stupid world. Once he’d learned enough, he’d head out and find his way home to pick up the pieces of his shattered life.

Until then, well, would it really be so bad to be friends?

Soon he found himself in front of Cara’s door, staring at it, wondering what the hell came next. Was knocking even a thing for wood elves?

He didn’t have any data points to draw a conclusion from. None of the communal areas had doors, and Cara had always been with him when they’d headed home.

Well, then. Only one way to find out.

Heart in his throat, he knocked on the door. The oak-like wood gave the knocks a gratifying crystal-clear sound, followed by silence from within.

Seconds turned to minutes, and still no answer. Had she heard? Would knocking again only make things worse? People had always been complicated enough, even without literally being a different species.

The perk point in Oratory offered its services. It was tempting, but something changing how his mind worked and altering what he said was still a bridge too far. Besides, it was Cara. They’d get through a little misunderstanding, perk or no.

“Cara? I didn’t mean it that way.”

The door swung open. A grimace lingered defiantly upon Cara’s face, while Nibbles snuggled against her neck. “I know,” she mumbled, her watery eyes refusing to make eye contact. “But…”

A silence swelled between them, broken only by an occasional squeak from Nibbles. But what? The sentence could be completed in too many horrifying ways to know exactly which one she meant.

Cara sucked in air and lifted her chin, tentatively meeting Ted’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I—I’m being ridiculous.”

After being practically joined at the hip for a week, he’d greeted her as not quite an enemy. How would he have reacted if she’d greeted him with her hands up, saying not to shoot? A lump formed in Ted’s throat. No, she wasn’t being ridiculous. “I get it.”

Cara tilted her head up and pressed her lips together. For a moment, it even looked like she might believe him. “You can’t.”

Did he get it?

Or did he have it all wrong?

Ted bit his lip and glanced around the chaos of her room. She often forgot or misplaced things, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“I know what it’s like to have to work twice as hard to get the same result. To never really fit in because, no matter how hard you try, you’re not like them.”

Her eyes dropped once more. She fiddled with the wood carving in her fingers for a while before speaking again. “We’re not the same, Ted. You’re smart! You pick things up super-fast, and you’re braver than I’ll ever be. You threw yourself at that gorilla for a village that made you sleep surrounded by an alarm.”

Ted bit his lip. It wasn’t true, not really. Well, he was smart, that part was correct, but it’s easy to be brave when you can’t die. “Cara…” His heart thundered, the logical part of his brain screaming for him to stop. “There’s something you should know.”

She clenched the wood carving tight, clinging to silence as Ted summoned the courage to do what he should have done from the beginning.

“Cara… I’m a Hero.”

“This isn’t the time for joking!”

“That’s what it says on my character sheet. Hero.”

Ted paused. The weight of her anger cast doubt on whether he’d made the right call. Either way, it was too late now.

“It’s why I level faster, and, as much as I’d like to say that I’d have done it anyway… knowing death might not be the end made it a whole lot easier to be brave. You—you’re the bravest person I know.”

She looked away, her lips pressed together. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the wood carving tight in her hand. “I should have seen it. The clues were all there. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“I’m sorry.” Ted swallowed, but his mouth remained dry. Leaving the topic alone might have been wiser. “I should have told you sooner. And you’re not stupid, far from it.”

Cara shook her head. “I should have seen it.” Her chin quivered and she exclaimed in Wood Elvish, “Forest forgive me.” She continued in Common, her voice cracking. “First person you meet in a strange world, and I rant about how you’re an evil murderer and wishing you were dead.”

Ted stepped closer and held his arms out wide, offering her a hug. “I didn’t take it like that. You’ve been kinder to me than anyone, and you haven’t talked my ear off with a lecture even once.”

Cara stifled a chuckle. “I won’t tell Reltan you said that.” She gestured to Ted’s out-held arms. “What’s that mean?”

“Don’t wood elves hug?”

“Hug?” Her head tilted, the sad lines across her face fading into vacant pensiveness. After a few moments, she said, “No. We ‘hug’ through the tree-song.”

It made sense. Why use physical contact when you could connect in spirit? A tingle ran through Ted just imagining it. The thought of being connected like that to even one other person, let alone an entire forest, was horrifying—it was stupid to feel jealous about it.

Cara stepped forward and tentatively put her arms around Ted. “But you’re not a wood elf, just as you’re not one of the Heroes of old.” The tension holding her stiff faded, and she hugged him tighter. “Please tell me you’re not.”

“I’m not.” The tightness held throughout Ted’s body flooded away, replaced by a warm comfort. How long had it been since he’d hugged anyone? Far longer than a week, however long it was. “I’m twenty-one, not ten-thousand.”

Cara’s voice faltered. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just Jeremy. He thought I should tell you.”

She let out a sniffly chuckle. “Of course he saw it. The others, though… they’d think you’re dangerous. They’re scared enough as it is.”

They couldn’t be blamed for that, not really. Between the dungeon spawn crisis and the timing of his arrival, there were already plenty of reasons to be worried. “We’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. Nibbles leaped to Ted’s shoulder and nibbled at his ear while the two rangers held their hug, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

“We—I—should get some sleep,” Ted said. “We have a meeting in the morning, and Jeremy said he’d teach me more spells.”

“Meeting?” Her eyes glazed over for a moment. “Meeting! Yes. Wait, we? You joined!?”

“Yeah. I figured if I’m going to save the village once a week, it might as well be my job.” No need to mention that it was the gear that clinched the deal. He’d noticed Cara working on the custom bow for him when she thought he was asleep, but she was a long way off being a Master Bowyer. She’d understand, eventually, but he didn’t fancy poking that particular bear just yet.

Cara’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “We can be Lookouts together! Well then, Ranger Ted, time for you to get some sleep. I’ll wake you at sunrise.” She tilted her head and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

What I wouldn’t give for an alarm clock.