9 days ago. Ela.

Ela didn’t like being alone. She could handle cold and danger well enough, but loneliness always gnawed at her in a quiet and insistent way she could never shake off. If the memory the Oracle had granted her of her previous life had been any hint, she could endure anything that came her way except for the anxiety that pooled in her guts when she was by herself.

She opened her eyes. Darkness threw her into a mild state of panic. Damp air clung to her lips, thick and suffocating. How long had she been asleep? Had the guild she was traveling with left her? She reached out instinctively. Her fingers brushed against a slick, rocky surface. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped in a slow, steady cadence. She clutched her chest. Her heart was a bird in hand.

“Ela?” a voice called out.

“Kaelith?” Ela craned her neck to peer out from the narrow cleft she had been sleeping in. Kaelith stood a dozen feet away, a violet flame flickering in her hands. The light illuminated faint veins of hailcryst in the rocks. Ela let out a shaky breath and began crawling toward Kaelith. Ice and stone bit into her palms. Her skin felt dry and frigid. Kaelith took a step into the cleft, cradling her flames to bring them closer to Ela.

“Sorry,” Kaelith said. “A fight broke out in the cavern with some rimewings and everyone rushed there. I just remembered you were still asleep here.”

“I slept through it?” Ela asked guiltily, though she wouldn’t have been able to do much even if she had been awake. She was a level 4 Enchantress, but her abilities hadn’t manifested yet. She had tried fighting with a blade and working a shield, but her Strength and Endurance were too low for her to be an effective tank or fighter. She had been relegated to leeching experience from the sidelines.

She hated feeling useless. Hated it as much as being alone. It didn’t help that the two often went hand in hand.

“It wasn’t too many,” Kaelith said. She extended a hand, helping Ela out of the last foot of the alcove.

Kaelith was a pyromancer in Fabled Dawn. She had dark hair streaked with purple strands, almond eyes, and a sun-bronzed complexion. Faint burn marks traced curved patterns along her fingertips and the smell of smoke always clung to her. Ela couldn’t remember the nuances between a fire mage and a pyromancer, but recalled it had something to do with the nature of their flames. Kaelith’s flames were violet—demon fire, Emberlain had told them. They flickered unnaturally slow and spoke to you if you stared for long enough.

“And we’ve got that new tank,” Kaelith added. “He held off three on his own.”

“The blue-haired one that’s always tipsy?”

Kaelith’s laugh crackled like fire catching dry wood. “He needs it for some of his abilities. He’s a Brawler.”

Ela arched her brow. Their new tank fought with a recklessness that both captivated and horrified her. She wondered what it would be like to feel so unafraid—meticulous planning and prudence had been her guiding principles in Lunaria. She had spent dozens of hours over the past few weeks reading all that she could in the tavern’s libraries on what to expect in the early stages of this world, and she still didn’t feel prepared.

She brushed frost off her dress and traveler’s cloak. Her minimal gear kept her from freezing, but Kaelith’s flames were the secret to her warmth and the only reason the guild was able to venture this deep into the Twilight Caverns.

Kaelith’s gear reflected how valuable she was to Fabled Dawn. They spared no expense to keep her well outfitted. Her tunic alone was worth 2 scales. Its high collar and long sleeves were trimmed with crimson stitching that spiraled in flame-like patterns. The sides were enchanted with runes to enhance her pyromantic control—a prerequisite for handling demonfire.

Kaelith’s expression shifted abruptly, her usual lighthearted demeanor gone. She fidgeted with the hem of her cloak.

“Ela… Dovrek wants to see you.”

Ela blinked, then nodded stiffly. Her tongue suddenly felt heavy.

Judging by Kaelith’s expression, they were both thinking the same thing.

Ela wasn’t officially part of Fabled Dawn. The guild, renowned for their emphasis on individual strength and hierarchy, let newcomers travel with them as a trial. There were no formalized rules or guidelines; the test was an unspoken gauntlet, forged by the relentless pace of the guild’s progress through Lunaria and the dangers that lurked in the wilds. Every step of the way, Ela had felt the pressure to keep up and contribute. Everyone had a role, a purpose, and an expectation to meet. She didn’t want to be labeled deadweight.

Dovrek was unyielding and quick to pass judgment. He had been lenient with Ela because they needed a healer, but so far, she hadn’t shown any promise. Sometimes, she thought she could feel the outline of an illusion forming in her hands, but it would always slip through her fingers. She had memorized incantations, traced sigils, and practiced basic casting forms a hundred times over, but her magic remained stubbornly dormant.

She had spent days waging a mental war against her looming sense of inadequacy. Now, she was certain she was finally going to be cut. She considered leaving the cavern immediately to avoid the ceremony of being told she wasn’t good enough, but willed herself to stay.

“Don’t be a coward, stable girl,” one of the priests had told her in her memory. “The temple is burning.”

Ela walked closely behind Kaelith. The air in the Twilight Caverns felt alive, carrying a strange hum that buzzed faintly in her ears. It felt like the remnants of a spell cast ages ago. The floor was strewn with carrion from previous battles—spirits that hadn’t been defeated thoroughly enough to evaporate into cron, the blue vapor that carried their essence. A rimewing dangled limply against the walls, impaled by a spear of ice. A borealis widow lay crumpled next to it. Faint mist rose from its shattered thorax.

The guild had rushed deeper into the caves to avoid running out of supplies. They didn’t bother finishing off or looting the spirits in the upper levels. The creatures here didn’t drop items of enough value to sustain a party as large or as high-level as theirs.

Ela’s frustration welled as she thought about the mounting dangers deeper into the caverns. There was something bleak about the perpetual cycle of risk and reward that Lunaria forced people to endure. Survival and progression for a guild like Fabled Dawn demanded the greatest challenges this world could offer, but it was inevitable they would find ruin if they always lived at the precipice of their limits.

Kaelith led her through a narrow passage where the walls leaned inward. The ceiling brushed so closely to Ela’s head she had to duck to get through. Frozen pools of witch water contained fragmented reflections of other worlds. One pool showed a storm like a clawed hand raking through a cluster of glass islands. Burning waves as tall as mountains turned pristine landscapes into empty husks of sand. A single scorching eye swirled at the center of the storm. It looked up at Ela. The veins around its pupil were sprawling webs of fire, spreading like tree roots looking for water.

She jumped back with a gasp.

“Don’t stare into witch water,” Kaelith said. Her flames lit the room in a narrow arc, drenching the rest of the passage in shadow.

Ela swallowed her shock, her mouth dry. It felt like metal flakes were trying to scrape their way down her throat.

The narrow passage gave way to a vaulted chamber where the rest of Fabled Dawn sat resting. Deep gashes and scorch marks marred the cavern walls. The floor was shrouded in a bed of cron so thick Ela thought she could drift in it. A few of the guild members were tending to their wounds. Mangled legs and lacerated arms made up the majority of their injuries. Rimewings had a Cutting Wind ability that was difficult to defend against. The vampiric creatures targeted low when they attacked, sweeping legs and knees before folding their wings into scythes.

Dovrek motioned for her to approach. He sat at the center of the chamber, surrounded by some of his strongest guildmates—Lorin, Thane, Syla, and a few others Ela didn’t recognize. Lorin was the strongest tank in Fabled Dawn, a Marrow Warden who used dead matter to summon skeletal armor and spectral walls. The soft rattling of bones always followed him. He was tall with a pale complexion and obsidian black hair. In battles, he threw himself in front of Dovrek without hesitation.

Dovrek himself was a Thorn Knight, a paladin-druid hybrid who called on nature for both defensive and offensive abilities. Ela had seen him summon lush deltas and vine-choked ravines in the middle of icy battlefields to turn the tides of a fight. It was his judgement in combat that made him a guild leader, though. He could be trusted to make hard decisions. To leave others behind for the greater good. It was the reason why Ela had wanted to join Fabled Dawn. Holding ground to try to save the injured or people who were falling behind had been the most common reason for guilds getting wiped in Lunaria.

Ela sat on an uneven slab of stone, her back stiff and her hands folded in her lap. The iced rim of the rock bit through her cloak, but she didn’t shift; it felt good to focus on the discomfort. It drew her attention away from thinking about the long and solitary trek back to the tavern.

“Ela, how are your abilities coming along?” Dovrek asked. He leaned forward slightly, his broad frame casting a splintered shadow across the chamber floor. Vines and bark curled around the wooden plates of his armor. His hair was a chestnut brown, flecked like charred wood.

Ela willed herself not to fidget. She stared at the floor. The ice was a cracked mirror, punctuated with dabs of color from glinting hailcryst. Her reflection looked trapped and distorted.

“I’ve been practicing,” Ela said. The words sounded unconvincing, even to herself. “I’m still trying to figure them out.” Even worse.

“Have you seen any memories from your past life?” Dovrek glanced around the room. “That’s often how the Oracle makes its revelations.”

Ela took a deep breath. The air in the cavern was laced with the tang of burnt stone.

“Not yet,” she replied.

Dovrek nodded slowly, his expression sharp and probing. He stared into her, and for a moment, she was certain he could tell she was lying.

Ela had gotten her first memory, but it was nothing like the enriching revelations everyone else seemed to have gotten. Hers was a scattered collection of painful visions, ending with a runaway girl and a wasted galaxy. A crumbling citadel in the clutches of a ravenous emperor.

“If I had some more time…” She blanched at her own words. She wondered if she should have practiced harnessing her abilities more—but what practice had she really done besides fumbling in the dark with gestures she didn’t understand?

“Ela… we need a healer,” Dovrek said. His expression turned dark. “You’ve been taking food and experience, but you haven’t been giving anything in return.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Ela winced at that.

“I could help hunt with—”

“If you were to fight melee, you’d get injured or die. What use would that be to the guild?” Dovrek raised a hand and let it fall limply to his side, as if mimicking the outcome of a fight. “Even worse, what if you got someone else hurt from trying to protect you while holding their own?”

Ela’s fingers twisted around the frayed edges of her cloak. She tugged on a loose thread.

She knew Dovrek was right. Survival in Lunaria demanded pragmatism. Wouldn’t she do the same if she were in his position? Cut someone loose if they weren’t offering anything in return for consuming her guild’s resources?

“It’s best if you return to the tavern,” Dovrek said.

Ela had been bracing herself for those words, but they still stung. She shifted uneasily in place, staring at the ground. The cracks along her reflection looked severe, the way the ridges on the walls of a childhood home could seem filled with significance.

She gave a quick, jittery nod. Dovrek wouldn’t change his mind; what more could she do?

“You might do better back in the plateaus,” Dovrek said. “Work on the easier spirits. If you unlock your abilities, you could join one of the other guilds.” He didn’t sound hopeful. “We only take the best in Fabled Dawn.”

Another shaky nod. Ela avoided looking at anyone around her. Dovrek was never cruel about his decisions, but it made it harder that he liked to deliver them in front of people. It was his way of reinforcing expectations for his broader guild. He wanted to show them he was willing to make difficult decisions, and the consequences if someone didn’t carry their own weight.

Footsteps echoed from the far side of the chamber. Their scout had returned—a girl with eyes so dark they made Ela feel like she was suffocating. Despite Dovrek’s unyielding strength, Kaelith’s wild demonfire, and Lorin’s impenetrable defenses, this half-blood-elf, half-dark-fae girl always unsettled Ela the most. Made impossibly beautiful by her hybrid lineage, she had teeth like sharp pearls and eyes that were huge in her face. Her name was a series of thoughts and images Ela could never quite grasp. An abandoned cathedral with a tolling bell, a labyrinth of black stone, a shadowy figure standing at the edge of a cliff—the guild called her Raven as a placeholder.

Raven’s eyes met Ela’s for a moment and Ela hastily turned away.

“Is anyone else going back?” Ela asked Dovrek. She glanced around, searching for anyone else who might look disappointed. She had grown attached to a few members of Fabled Dawn, like Kaelith, but now she was back to being on her own. A runaway girl on a desolate world all over again.

“No,” Dovrek said.

***

Ela walked for hours.

It took her mind off things. She thought about why the Oracle might have called her here. Was there a purpose she couldn’t yet see? Slaying an emperor was a far-fetched dream. Not just for her, but for everyone here. The guild members of Fabled Dawn may have made progress through the winding caverns underneath the plateaus and the snowbound tundras on top of it, but they had barely scratched the surface of Lunaria’s many worlds. They were still in the outskirts of the tavern, traversing low-level dungeons by clinging to threadbare health bars and fleeting courage.

She thought about her memories. She ran through the marbled corridors of a burning citadel, watching skin slough off of the priests and acolytes who were behind her. The black fire was a living thing, gnawing at her heels as she ran. She could feel its hunger. A voice in her head urged her to stop—begged her to let it take her. When it was done burning through stone and flesh, it left a primordial darkness in place, a gaping hole so void of light it looked like a wound in the fabric of her universe.

Kaelith had given her a torch before she left. It was the only thing keeping Ela from freezing. The flames flickered unnaturally slow, the edges going in and out of existence like dust under light. The ceiling of the outer caverns was riddled with cracks and hailcryst veins. Melted witch water left shimmering trails along frozen ridges. Faint, uneven drips echoed through the tunnel Ela was walking in, making it feel as though something vast was unraveling.

Ela froze mid-step, her pulse quickening as she heard a skittering sound. It was coming from just beyond a sharp turn in the path ahead of her. The scrape of claws against ice rippled softly in the stillness of the caverns. She gripped her torch tighter and the flames whispered back to her. The voices were loudest when her sanity was low or when they could sense her discomfort. She made a mental note to pack plain torches and matches from Emberlain. There were so many unusual things in Lunaria, she often struggled to discern the quirks of its many worlds from signs that her own mind was finally giving out.

The skittering stopped, stretching the silence of the moment thin, as though whatever was ahead had sensed her presence too.

She thought about tracing her steps back and taking an alternate route, but she wouldn’t know where to go. The guild had marked their way through the caverns by scoring the walls with runes and letter-symbols. The Twilight Caverns was a treacherous warren of mazes, intricate enough that she could fall into old age without ever seeing its deeper reaches.

She swallowed nervously and took a step forward. If she peeked over the corner, she could at least know what lay ahead. Every little sound was amplified by the silence of the icy tunnel—the crunch of her boots against the frost-bitten ground, the faint hiss of the torch, the erratic beating of her own heart.

She took another step forward. The torch trembled, her knuckles pale against its leather shaft. Her mouth was so dry she thought she could sate her thirst on dust.

The skittering returned. Ela hesitated, glancing back the way she came. Her throat tightened. She forced her feet to move. Step by step, she edged closer to the corner, muscles taut, her senses wired from adrenaline. Her skin prickled. She tensed the back of her head to stop the thrumming in her ears.

She eased her face closer to the corner, pressing her body against the surface of the wall. She held her torch behind her to keep the light from spilling too far ahead. Anticipation clawed at her nerves. She peeked around the edge. A bead of sweat trailed down her temples despite the cold.

Ela had never experienced such a surge of relief in her life. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her and she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

It was the blue-haired boy Kaelith and she had talked about earlier. The skittering was coming from a hole in the wall he was looking into. His cloak lay on the floor across him and a silver bottle was balanced loosely between his knees. He was sitting on a domed boulder and juggling a sharp piece of ice between his hands. He had a mark on his neck like a serpentine sea-creature. It was strangely shaped, but Ela was somehow certain she had seen it before. She couldn’t pick it out from the memories of her previous life, but the creature gave her a sweeping sense of nostalgia. She had seen this spirit somewhere. Not just an image of it—she had seen it in the flesh, alive and coiling.

“Hey,” Ela whispered. She stepped out of the shadows, loosening her grip on her torch. She tried to calm herself, but residual adrenaline kept her heart racing and her steps unsteady. She couldn’t help but stare at the mark on the boy’s neck. The ink was shifting, making the creature look like it was writhing on his skin. It had beady eyes that darted left and right, as if it were looking for a way to escape.

“Oh, hey,” the boy said. He tilted his head. He looked more confused than surprised. “Are you from the guild?” His expression softened into mild amusement. “Not here to try and bring me back, are you?”

“No, no,” Ela said. She gestured in stilted arcs, as if swatting something away. “Did they… ask you to leave, too?” She realized that might have been a personal question and felt her face flush. She pretended to study a vein of hailcryst on the walls.

“No,” the boy said. “I just left.” His eyes were a weathered shade of blue, like deeper-toned sapphire. His hair was tousled and his knuckles were scraped red, as if he’d just been fighting or sleeping. Or both.

“You just left? On your own?”

“Yeah… they kept trying to take my items and gold.”

“They kept trying to… oh.” Ela studied him silently for a moment, wondering if the boy was too new to understand how guilds worked. Or perhaps he hadn’t picked up on it.

“Fabled Dawn follows a strict hierarchy,” Ela said. “The higher ups get the first pick of the loot.” She took a step toward the hole he was peering into. Several borealis widows crawled along a glacial shelf. Behind them, the crack in the wall opened up into another world. Ela could see clouds of iridescent mist drifting lazily across a lake. Several moons hung so low, she was certain they were sinking into the water. A winged spirit flew just above them. Light trailed its wings like a flare caught in a breeze.

“I don’t know how things work around here, but I wasn’t a fan of that.” He tugged on the inside of his cloak. “I’m not joining a guild to line someone else’s pockets.”

“So you just left? By yourself?” Ela looked around, as if she might find someone else in the dark of the passage.

“Would have asked you if I knew you were leaving too.” The boy shrugged easily, then took a sip of his bottle and stared back into the hole in the wall. He had an unbothered demeanor. Ela wondered what kind of life he had led before all this to make him so casually detached. She thought the Oracle had only chosen those who were serious about their vows. That’s what the priests had told her in her memories.

“I was thinking of fighting them, but couldn’t see how many there were. But now with you here—”

“Wait, no,” Ela cut in. “I don’t… you don’t want to rely on me.” She wrung a hand against her dress. She felt like she was having to explain herself far too many times in one day for someone who didn’t believe in excuses. “I don’t have any abilities. I’m still practicing.”

The boy stared at her for a long while. Ela wondered if she had overshared. She could have kept it vague, explained just enough to convince him not to fight, but now—

He tossed her the jagged piece of ice in his hands. Ela caught it between two fingers, nearly dropping her torch in the process.

“This is how you’ll get them,” he said. “Throw it at any of the ones close to us. It’ll draw them out.”

Ela turned the piece of ice in her hands. Meltwater clung to her fingertips. She pressed the edges of the ice shard against the lines of her palms.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. The ice softened in her hand. Her fingers slid against its surface. Droplets of water pattered onto the ground. “I can’t see them all, what if there are more in the dark? We could die.” It wasn’t just the borealis widows she was afraid of. The crack in the wall opened into another world. She could already hear the ice shard clattering down its frozen depths, awakening nameless terrors from their dreams.

He gave her a startled look.

“Whoa, whoa, we’re not dying.” He waved his hands in a placating manner. “I can take the spiders, just stay near me. But if you want your abilities—I think you need to be close to a fight.”

“I’ve been close to fights. That’s how I’ve been getting experience. I’m a level 4—”

“Not close like that. I mean close.” He picked up a loose rock from the ground and scraped it against his palms. “You know… blood and bones and all.”

Ela recoiled at the thought. Blood and bones… he must have been a barbarian in his previous life. The lands around her citadel had been filled with them. Roving bands of raiders who lived for chaos. It would explain the boy’s feral style of combat and his thirst for ale. It was no wonder the Oracle preferred to wipe people’s memories before they started in Lunaria. If they remembered too much, they might fall back into their old habits, or be driven by things other than the quest.

“I don’t know I—”

“Here, have some of this.” He held out the silver bottle. “You need it more than I do.” He rolled the neck of it between his fingertips. Dust and snow stuck to his thumb and forefinger. It looked like a relic, striped with frost and grime. The stopper was a rough-hewn crystal. There was no label, but it did have a pattern like a snowflake etched into the metal near its base. For whatever reason, Ela thought it looked like an heirloom. The kind of potion or elixir you’d keep locked away in a glass cabinet.

She walked closer, sniffing the air. She had tried ale twice at the tavern, but it never sat well with her.

“It’s not ale,” he said, as if reading her mind. “It’s mirror wine.”

Ela leaned her head slightly. “Before a fight?”

“That’s when you need it the most.”

She bounced the idea in her head. Something that might loosen her nerves didn’t sound so bad, but was that really what she needed before a fight?

She hesitated for a moment before reaching for the bottle. She passed the torch to the boy.

If her masters at the Cathedral could see her now, they’d be aghast—but they had never been too fond of her anyway.

The wine tasted sweet and metallic, with an undertone of bitter herbs. There was an aftertaste of smoke and something floral. She couldn’t place it.

She stared back and forth between the bottle and the boy, debating a second sip, and then she put the bottle down.

“What should I fight with? The torch?” She had seen the boy fight before. He’d be fine. It was herself she was worried about. And what Dovrek had said—what if she got him hurt, or even killed?

He shrugged in an unconcerned way, as if that was the last thing on his mind.

“Teeth? Nails? I don’t know, get an ice pick from the wall.”

“That’s a bit… savage,” Ela said, more to herself. She stepped closer to the hole in the wall. The world through the cracks seemed at once so close and so far. Lunaria had many places like this. She had seen an ocean under a tree with a sky that turned golden at second night and a mountain that breathed like a living thing. She hated being alone, but sometimes, she had the urge to go so far away from everything she knew, she thought she might be able to escape the feeling.

“I’m Cain, by the way.”

“Oh… yeah. Eladira. Ela, for short.”

She arched her arm back. The words of the priest kept playing in her head. Don’t be a coward, stable girl. She let the ice shard fly.