Oxygen rushed back into his lungs as he gasped for breath, the faint taste of salt on his tongue. Nathan's eyes snapped open, the unyielding glare of death he'd expected replaced by a soft, verdant canopy overhead. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat, an instinctual fear that his heart would once again betray him. But the beat was as strong as it had been when he was twenty.

Had that been a dream? Memories, flickers of water, images of a dark green fire. The Mantle of the Ferryman?

Soft grass brushed his head and back as he lay on the ground. He placed a wary hand over his heart and counted the beats. "Forty beats per minute. I'll be damned." he murmured to himself with a wry grin. His voice didn't waver with age – it was smooth, almost musical in its youthfulness. Like an old friend come home after a long journey.

Nathan sat up. He was in a forest clearing lush with life. The air smelled sweet and clean, so unlike the sterile scent of the hospital room where he'd drawn his last breath, or the brine of the rushing river. The harsh fluorescent light was replaced with warm and resplendent sunny rays. The sharp and obtrusive beeps of machinery had disappeared, and the songs of tiny birds filled the air. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it short and full rather than thin and wispy.

"This certainly doesn’t look like the Abyss. Is this… heaven?"

He inspected his hands – no liver spots, no wrinkles – just the strong, steady hands of a man in his prime. Flexing them, he felt a foreign yet familiar surge within him – energy pulsed beneath his skin. Skin no longer thin as paper, muscles like taut steel cables, joints that didn’t pop and groan. He let out a laugh, loud and full, and didn't cough half of a lung out.

Nathan rose to his feet with ease that belied his ninety years — or rather, what should have been ninety years. His whole body had changed. His clothes were different too — gone was the hospital gown. Instead, he wore simple yet sturdy leathers that fit nicely around his body, outlining and defining his hard-earned muscles.

His confusion ebbed away as curiosity took its place. This was no heaven he'd ever been taught about. It felt like a second chance — or perhaps a very elaborate dream.

I’ve spent my whole life acting on orders, completing missions, doing whatever I’m told without question. I killed and killed and killed, and all that was waiting for me at the end was a one way ticket to Hell. He felt a great weight fall from his shoulders, one that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Fuck that. I’m living for myself this time.

His responsibilities were over.

He scanned the horizon and spotted what looked like a skyscraper barely peeking its top above the treeline. Patting his pants pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet — he didn't, they were in an entirely different universe — he continued on his way.

Toward what? He didn't know. But he had spent the vast majority of his life worrying about knowing everything, always working toward the goal of killing Cleo. Now that she was dead, it was nice to have no goal other than 'walk.'

I completed my mission. Time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Maybe I can even find a nice cold beer – one that doesn’t require being snuck past the nurses, he thought, smiling.

He took a step forward, ready to begin his new life, and stumbled — not out of frailty, but because a series of unexpected words had rudely thrust themselves into his vision.

Threads Initialized. Welcome to Avalora.

“What the hell?”

The words hovered in the air before him, moving like floating silk.

“Avalora? Threads?” Nathan's brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth dipping to a frown, as he focused on the floating text. He waved a hand through it and it scattered into shimmering strings before quickly reforming. The words lingered for a moment longer, and then dissipated.

Nathan tried to bring the words back up, but they were gone. Am I hallucinating or something? No, that was definitely real.

And then another set of words took the place of the first, this one much more complicated, forming of more streaming strings of golden thread. They shimmered into the air before him.

Name: Nathan Fleet

Race: Human*

Class: Ferryman

Level: 0

Stats:

– Strength: 23

– Agility: 25

– Endurance: 22

– Intelligence: 11

– Charisma: 14

– Luck: 7

Abilities:

– Echo of the Dead: All souls must journey across the waters, but some need a guide. Enables the user to absorb and store Echoes of any entities slain by Echo of the Dead.

The user can summon any stored Echoes, commanding them as they please. When the summoned Echo dissipates, it is then Ushered and can no longer be summoned. Ushered Echoes grant you a portion of their power and can also grant a temporary ability.

Echoes Stored: [0/3]

Total Echoes Ushered: [0/2]

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Traits:

– Mantle of the Ferryman: Charnun has passed his Mantle on to you.

– Master of Death: You have died and come back from the grave. Necromantic capabilities significantly increased.

– Peerless Assassin: You have dedicated your life to the art of killing. Physical capabilities significantly increased. +10 to all starting physical stats.

– Soulchained: Whether by acts of gods or demons, you have found your existence and soul bound to that of another. While within a certain distance the one whose soul you have been bound to, you receive improved physical and magical capabilities. However, should the two Soulchained entities be sufficiently apart, capabilities will be reduced based on distance. Damage to either entity's soul will be shared amongst both.

Nathan stumbled backward, his jaw slack as his eyes read and then reread the words floating before him. Was this because of that shit back in the river? Similar words had appeared when he’d died, but that was before the Mantle, so he wasn’t sure.

“Are these numbers some sort of quantification of my abilities?” He wondered. “My intelligence doesn’t seem particularly high. I feel like I should be insulted.”

Back on earth, when he was working as an assassin, he would have killed for his accomplishments to have manifested in such a way – a way to truly track his progress. He had killed for much, much less.

Necromancy, increased dexterity, creating echoes of his fallen enemies — and somehow using them to get stronger. The Echo of the Dead ability intrigued him, but he wasn't sure what most of what it did meant. Nor did he know what Soulchained was supposed to be.

Perhaps his mind had finally cracked and he’d gone crazy. He pinched himself, feeling the sharp pain. No, this was all very real. His muscles were stronger than they had ever been in his youth.

An electric thrill rushed up his spine, causing his hairs to stand on end. He couldn’t help himself from smiling. If he’d risen to the top back on earth without stats and damned God Class, the mere thought of what he could aspire to here made his heart thump with adrenaline. This was more than a mere opportunity. This was an upgrade.

***

The word skyscraper may not have been the most accurate description of the thing that Nathan had seen poking its top above the trees. It was most certainly a building. And a tall one at that. But it was nothing like any skyscraper he had ever seen in his life before.

I’m not on Earth anymore. Or, if I am, Earth has changed quite a bit in the time I’ve been gone.

Down in the basin of a wide valley, a great tower of stone and metal jutted up from the ground, some two hundred feet high. The sprawling city – full of keeps, and manors, and towers, patches of green and lakes of blue – bristled across the valley, over a mile across. A lazy river swept back and forth, cutting swaths through the myriad of buildings multiple times before disappearing around the base of a distant mountain. Metal rooftops glinted in the midday sun as dark plumes of black smoke rose from unseen chimneys up to meet the clouds.

Nathan hadn’t been walking for long. Not even half an hour by his best estimations, and he could’ve gone for hours more. Walking faster than a snail’s pace – and without the need of a cane or walker – was some of the most excitement he’d felt in years.

A new beginning, he thought as he looked down toward the city below. His eyes followed the road down, noting several others running to and from the city, passing through its stone walls.

He felt a sense of nervous elation, like a kid on their first day of school, or the moment right before he’d squeezed the trigger on his first kill. It was exhilarating.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he took his first step down onto the road leading to his new life. And then someone stepped up beside Nathan. I didn’t even hear them coming, he thought. My skills are rustier than I realized.

Nathan turned to see a woman standing next to him, also looking down toward the city. She looked to be about his age – or at least the age of his current body – and had silky black hair and a slender build. There was a familiar beauty about her. He watched her from the corner of his eye for a moment, but she never turned to face him so he returned his gaze to the city. Must not be the talkative type. Or maybe she’s intimidated by my fit new body.

“Quite the view, huh?,” Nathan finally said after a long moment. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, or even if the people in this new world would be able to understand him. “Makes you feel like a bird, looking down on a bunch of ants.” He paused, gauging her reaction. There wasn’t one. “What brings you here?”

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes flicked to the side as if acknowledging Nathan’s presence for the first time. She didn’t look impressed. “Just… taking in the view.”

“Is it one you enjoy often?” he asked, looking over the steeples and peaks of the city. Many boats, large and small, sailed through the gates guarding the mouths of the river. “This is my first time here.”

“Mine as well.”

“Ah, a fellow tourist,” Nathan said, brushing a hand back over his head, relishing the sensation of a full head of hair. He’d never known what he’d had till it was gone. Such was the way with most things in life, unfortunately. “What brought you to this city? Please tell me it was the rumors of good beer. I am in desperate need of a drink.”

“Afraid not. I don’t know much about the city.” A cat-like eye glanced at him, catching his own, and then withdrawing. “As I said, first time.”

A breeze blew from behind them, rustling their hair and blowing leaves toward the city and its many people. Down in its front, main gate, a cart pulled by a donkey rattled out with two men riding it.

Nathan chewed the innermost part of his lip. “Fair point,” he said after a time. “Where’d you come from, then? I’m eager to learn all I can about the area.”

“Far away.”

“Far away,” Nathan repeated, rolling his eyes.

I’d ask why she was traveling alone, but judging from her charming personality, I already know why.

“Let me guess, you’re the mysterious wanderer type? Come to sit in the corners of bars and silently brood while watching everyone else have a good time?”

“And let me guess,” the woman said, turning to face Nathan. Her eyes narrowed to thin slits. “You’re the talkative type that believes himself entitled to a stranger’s life story simply because he asked?”

Her expression shifted subtly. It was quick, agitated. Nathan had gotten under skin. Good. That meant this hadn’t been a waste of his time.

Nathan paused, taken aback by the sharpness of her response and her observation, but then he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Fair point.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Maybe I am, but you walked up beside me, remember? And I only ask for stranger’s stories because I find them far more interesting than my own. I already know my story. I want something new.”

He saw the woman’s eyes flick to his chest, then hands, then hair. She squinted as though trying to place something. Or was he imagining things, she had been checking him out?

“Or maybe you just like the sound of your own voice,” she said.

“I would certainly be lying if I said that I didn’t.” He winked. She turned back toward the city.

“Well, I suppose it was nice talking with you, but I’m gonna head down there and take a look around,” Nathan said, extending his hand and putting on his most charming smile. “You are more than welcome to join me. I could use some company that is as charming as yourself.” Had that been the first hint of a smile. Nope, it was a scowl. “The name’s Nathan.”

A much too familiar scowl. And then he realized his mistake, but it was already too late. The familiar dark of her hair. The familiar green of her eyes. The familiar scar on her cheek from when Nathan had nearly killed her all those years ago.

Standing frozen, eyes locked with Nathan’s, lips curled with a scowl that he had seen a thousand times, was Cleo.