I made my way back to Myrd flush with specific purpose.

The universe’s sigil hadn’t changed, which either meant the markers weren’t continually updating, or against all odds there actually was a post-death Rein in the dimension. I felt fairly confident of it being the former.

Pushing through, I landed back at the waypoint I’d departed from on my last visit. It rested in an open field between no fewer than three distant monasteries, each depicting a different motif. Up in the mountains sprawled the Enclave of the Bowl. Below, judging by its sculpted towers, would be the Enclave of the Shell. The last I was less certain about, being draped in colourful fabrics almost as long as its towers themselves. Well-worn paths formed a somewhat inverse triangle between them, terminating in a three-point intersection with the shrine I’d emerged into. It was day.

I stepped out before any traffic decided to come along, and ballooned my way to better seclusion. Amid a copse of trees, I achingly lowered myself into the grass and scooped up handfuls of its healing magic, crushing the motes beneath me into puffs of sharp tang. After a while of this, I did start to notice myself feeling better, though a quick check of my arms revealed no difference to the wrinkles.

It gave me time to think.

Since Stabula, World Slide in particular had been giving me fewer problems, even when I’d forgotten to pull my usual trick. The Defect had always been random, shunting me off-course anywhere it wanted.

Near Miss had always had an undue amount of influence over the others; that had never been in question. If World Slide had started working despite being a Defect, perhaps we were finally more aligned.

It was a big ‘if’. The full ramifications of what Near Miss had done were still sinking in. I still knew nothing about its intentions. Cores were supposed to be part of their hosts; it should have been working for my best interests.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about what spirit Weave had said about conflicting loyalty. I’d heard it twice now. First Nysept. Now here.

‘Loyalty’ implied an agenda, that my one-sided conversations over the years had been more than desperate whimsy. Part of me must have suspected, at least in a sense, what I was dealing with.

Near Miss had never worked on demand. I’d tried many times over as a Sol, thinking it inexperience. Less frequently as a Du and Tri. But that was when I’d thought I had a Defect. And now, if Imbertri was right, it wanted me to know.

Triggering it still wasn’t intuitive. No immediate danger presented itself with which to try, and self-preservation instincts made it difficult to induce any. Further complicating matters, Near Miss could be subtle. It didn’t need me to trip to stop myself ramming my head into a tree trunk when the easiest way was simply to not have me try.

Case in point, I didn’t feel like smashing my head in. In my current state, I also wasn’t sure I could take it.

There were less violent means. I picked a leaf and held it above my head, focusing on having it narrowly avoid my face. When I let it go, it tumbled past in the breeze. Technically a success, but one that didn’t tell me anything.

It didn’t help that the augment itself was negative. It didn’t do things, it avoided them. I couldn’t ask it to help me achieve a goal; only ask it to fail. The inverted thinking required threatened to tie my brain into knots.

So what did I actually want?

Repairs, for one.

To learn to handle Near Miss.

To advance to second-tier with abilities more within my control.

To find out why the sigils had appeared.

Friends that would stay within reach. Real ones, not transient acquaintances or colleagues. That the last deficiency was largely my own fault didn’t make it less powerful. My own fault, plus Chapel structure. That Alusept had disappeared after our conversation was niggling at the back of my mind.

That, and the fear. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was behind it.

Maybe, one day, to help my original universe. Fate knew it needed saving. I’d checked briefly on the way to Myrd, and the sigils had laid it bare. No Rein assigned. Logically I knew it was a single dimension among billions, no more special than any of the others. Full of warlords and their petty disputes taking hundreds of thousands of lives. Grand ambitions amounting to nothing more than a bug under the Chapel’s shoe.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It still meant something.

So, then. Methods. Simply trying to fail at not having repairs wouldn’t work; I could feel it in my bones. Unless that was just arthritis.

Eliminating the Defect assumption moved new possibilities into the light. I had an indirect core with indirect results. Perhaps that was why it had corrupted the far more straightforward World Slide – to add a direct tool to its arsenal and improve its versatility.

A self-improving augment, using Defects as its ingredients? I added further improvements as a seventh goal. Anything that made Near Miss easier to use was a win.

Although Near Miss couldn’t be as narrowly defined as simply success versus failure. It represented an outcome different from the intent. Gear Shift was undoubtedly a Defect, but when given the choice, I’d found myself consciously choosing it over Par.

Reviewing my list, there didn’t seem to be much overlap between what I wanted and what Near Miss did. Whatever it wanted seemed tied up with the incidents with the Reins, and I couldn’t see how it would be in my best interest. Two competing loyalties already.

I had more work to do to bring them onto the same page.

“Alright,” I spoke aloud, though it probably wasn’t necessary. “The sigils are relevant to us both, so let’s start there. With my skillset, I don’t think I’d be useful on the investigation team, but I do need repairs. I know you don’t want me to hit second-tier, but if we want to continue to improve you, that’s how we do it. Like Flinpen and Long Game. You seem like you have a plan, but there has to be more than only one way, and we both have to be on board. I could choose something to help me understand you. It would be worth spending an augment on.”

As always, I received absolutely no sign I was doing anything but talking to imaginary figments. I lifted my chin and sighed.

Travellers dotted the roads. Self-consciously, I waited until the paths were clear, then hurried back on foot to the waypoint door, soaking up more of the ambient magic. It was helping; walking had definitely become easier.

I hesitated in front of the door. “Your turn,” I said to the air. “I’ll choose another destination at random. Whatever it is you need, I assume you’ll do the rest. Just please don’t get us hurt again.”

The Interstice was peaceful as always, whatever force building the sigils rendered invisible in its pocket of frozen time. True to my word, I drifted without direction and hit the brakes when it seemed least expected.

Against all odds and billions of possibilities, ominous against the fog, I found myself looking at the gate to Irwol, the universe where Jadal Cai had finally met his demise.

It bore a sigil: no Reins here.

It was wrong. Jadal Cai’s last target was still alive; Flinpen, Alusept and I had made sure of it. I’d been there to witness his dot in my mission orders the whole time. Dying would have made it disappear.

Given the way I’d left this dimension, I also wasn’t keen on revisiting the other side. It was surmountable, of course, by acquiring my own anti-gravity equipment, or even just a glider. But that was a task in itself. I was here, ready, now.

Unless that was the point. I’d already been to one certain death and survived. Maybe this was Near Miss trying to prove it could protect me.

It required another leap of faith worse than the last, this time into a plunge I knew would be fatal. All my instincts resisted. And yet the indications were here, presenting a universe no random selection should. Evidence staring me in the face. Again.

Near Miss wasn’t set up to communicate. This was the best it could do.

If I went in now, I would die.

I pushed through and fell.

The cables we’d left were still in place, whipping at my shoulder and leg. I grabbed at them, missed and tore off a nail in a fountain of pain. Didn’t matter. I tried again, getting my whole arm around it, and added a burn to my hand. My leg tangled in the cord as my limbs flailed, and I found myself suddenly yanked out of position, foot arrested. My body flung outwards, joints popping and treated to a chaotic twist of blurring trees before coming to a stomach-rolling jolt upside down, ankle precariously constricted.

I kept still, barely daring to catch my breath, and made a grab for the lower cable. It was slick with drizzle and slightly out of reach. I nudged the captured ankle, loosening the knot as I did, but the momentum of the unravel brought the cable within reach. My hand closed it and I brought it to the other, squeezing with all my might as my body jolted again, flipping down until I was once more upright.

In my weakened state, I couldn’t handle it, even after the healing of Myrd. Ligaments tore and a bone snapped. I held on in spite of it; despite the burns in my hands, and brought my knees around the cable, squeezing tight. Damp hair obscured my vision. Tears of pain formed at my eyes.

But I was alive.

I’d fallen just over halfway to the ground.

“I hate this,” I gasped as my body screamed. “Do better.”

Against my sane judgement, I let go again.

Immediately I grabbed for the cables again, but received only friction burns for my trouble. The forest floor rushed up at me and didn’t stop. I didn’t see how I could possibly survive, staring at imminent death ahead of me.

At the last moment before impact, I triggered Gear Shift for the buffer of a sturdier frame. At least I wouldn’t feel the pain.

It didn’t prevent the impact.

I landed on something soft.

There was still a jolt. My frame rattled, pieces becoming looser, but I didn’t fall apart. I let myself sit for a few seconds, mentally adjusting, then rolled out of elevator form and onto my injured hands and knees.

The laugh I tried to make turned into a croaking cough.

Near Miss had done better.