The cavernous room Amara found herself in stretched impossibly far into the distance, and a forest of vast stone columns climbed towards the domed roof where they disappeared into shadow. From above, a single shaft of light pierced the gloom and illuminated the cool marble slab where she had awoken moments earlier.

She stared upwards as she tried to orientate herself to her unfamiliar surroundings. When she turned her head to the side, she saw endless rows of slabs like the one she was lying on interspersed between the soaring columns. Then she turned the other way and saw more of the same.

Where in the world am I? she thought to herself groggily. But when she searched her mind for how she’d ended up here, her memories were fuzzy with large gaps in them.

Amara rolled over and pushed herself up with one arm. As she did, a terrible weakness washed over her body, and she nearly collapsed back onto the stone slab. It took all her effort to remain sitting, and her limbs trembled with the exertion.

When she finally felt steady again, she glanced down at herself, and was shocked to see her clothes had been replaced by pristine white robes. Who had changed her, and why?

The sound of hurried footsteps made her look up, and she watched as a man wearing richly embroidered vestments raced in her direction. As he dashed forward, he clutched a thick tome to his chest, and a bronze medallion around his neck bounced with each step.

The young man had blue eyes, a narrow nose, and wisps of a beard on his face. He nearly skidded to a stop in front of her. He didn’t speak for several seconds, his face deathly pale. “This… this is impossible,” he finally gasped. “If you’re here, then it means everything is real…”

Amara opened to her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged from her parched throat. The young man seemed to understand her predicament and handed her a wine skin with trembling hands. She popped off the cork and smelled the contents. The powerful aroma of wine assailed her nostrils.

While she didn’t normally accept drinks from strangers, her thirst won out and she lifted the spout to her lips. The wine was slightly bitter, but her thirst made it taste like the nectar of the gods. The first few gulps burned as they went down her throat, but she felt the dryness in her mouth disappear.

“Where am I?” she whispered, her voice scratchy as though from long disuse. “And who are you?”

The young man seemed to calm slightly and then inclined his head. “I am Brother Otto. And I suppose I’m a servant of the god of Sirveig.”

“I’m Amara,” she replied, glancing around the room again. “Is there anyone else here?”

“I am the sole caretaker of this crypt, though other monks and nuns reside here,” he said hesitantly. “None have been reincarnated here for nearly a millennium. Most rational thinkers, myself included, thought that stories of avatars being reborn here were nothing but fanciful tales. But then the beacon was lit, and well, here you are—"

“What do you mean, reincarnated?” She interrupted him, her eyes narrowing at his words.

Otto blanched slightly. “I’m only an initiate in this order. And to be honest, not an overly dedicated one. I joined this church not long ago for the steady meals and shelter it offered. I... I must send for the bishop, who is out visiting the nearby chapter house. He is only a day’s ride from here. And as I said, this is unprecedented. My only job is to keep this place clean and maintain a vigil should an avatar arrive. Not that one has in living memory, mind you…”

Amara swung her legs over the side of the marble slab, letting her feet dangle. “I’m not going to wait days for someone to come answer my question. Tell me what you meant when you said reincarnated.”

The monk paled further, and his fingers tightened around the massive book he carried. “I understand this may come as a shock, but if the scripture is to be believed, you… died in your world. And through the will of the gods, you’ve been reborn here. But if that’s true, then we must be nearing another Age of Strife.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I… died?” Her eyes widened. She focused on her memories, but she couldn’t recall anything about her final moments. The last thing she remembered was planning her father’s funeral.

The thought of her dad made her chest tighten, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears away. She refused to cry in front of someone she’d just met.

“Do you know how I died?” she asked, her voice raspy.

Otto shook his head. “That knowledge is never imparted to the servants of Sirveig. However, it is written that only those who died heroic deaths earn another chance at life.”

“I see.” Though in truth, she couldn’t believe she’d done anything worthy of reincarnation. For as long as she could remember, she’d looked after herself and her sick father. And she’d done whatever it took to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. While her friends went off to university, she’d resorted to petty crime to survive while her father languished in bed.

She dropped down from the stone altar and staggered as her knees nearly buckled. The monk lunged forward and caught her arm before she fell. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a lopsided grin. “So, what’s next?”

“Do you not wish to rest?” His face twisted with confusion. “I assume the process of reincarnation must be taxing. And should anything happen to you, the bishop will have my hide.”

Amara shrugged. “I’m not exactly going to miss my old life.” And there wasn’t anyone she’d miss, either. She hadn’t had many friends in school, and her mother had left when her father got sick. Truth be told, she felt vaguely excited at a new chance at life.

“Good, good,” Otto said, unconvincingly. “Now, if you would just allow me to examine you.”

She reached up to cover herself. “You’re not touching me unless you want to lose that hand of yours.”

“I apologize,” he said, his face turning crimson. “I only meant to scan your class and stats.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Like in a video game?”

“I don’t know how it relates to games. However, if you wish, you can take a moment to examine yourself first.” He lowered the massive book he held as he spoke. “In order to do so, simply think about your class and it should appear.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

She followed his instructions, feeling skeptical, but a moment later writing appeared in her vision.

Amara Solace (Unranked Adventurer)

Trickster Cleric, Level 1

Stats

Strength

2

Dexterity

3

Constitution

2

Intelligence

4

Wisdom

6

Charisma

1

Vitality

1

Luck

10

Weapon Proficiencies

Staff

Novice

Darts

Novice

Skills

First Aid

Apprentice

Herbalism

Apprentice

Alchemy

Apprentice

Martial Abilities

None

Spells

Cloak of Shadows

1st Circle

Charm Person

1st Circle

Heal Wounds

1st Circle

Avatar of Melischar

Inactive

She read over the chart, wincing at how low some of her stats were and then paused when she reached luck. After the last few years, she’d expected luck to be her lowest stat—not her highest.

With a shake of her head, she continued reading through what appeared to be her character sheet. The skills were likely derived from caring for her father over the last few years. But she didn’t know where the spells had come from. Both weapon proficiencies and spells seemed to be linked to her class, and not her experiences.

And she had no idea why the last spell was greyed out and read as ‘inactive’. When she tried to mentally select it, nothing happened. Maybe she could puzzle out its meaning later.

“May I?” Brother Otto said after a few moments of silence.

“Fine.” She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “Might as well get it over with.”

Otto furrowed his brow and then his eyes darted from side to side. After a second, he frowned deeply, lines forming on his brow. “This is most… unusual.”

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, his gaze giving her unpleasant prickles on her bare skin. Maybe something had gone wrong with the reincarnation process.

“It’s… it’s just not what I expected.” He placed the tome down on the stone altar and cracked it open. As he flipped through the book, the sheets of parchment rustled gently. Finally, he stopped and ran his finger down a page.

Amara craned her head to try to see what he was reading, but all she saw was unfamiliar writing and fantastical illuminations. While she could apparently communicate with people in this world, she wasn’t able to read their language.

“This is very bad,” Otto muttered. “Very bad indeed.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, exasperated. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Otto shook his head. “I must fetch someone who knows more about these things.”

“Not until you tell me what’s happening.” She glared at him and watched him wilt. “I’m not going to have you make all of those disapproving sounds and then run off before you tell me what’s wrong.”

Otto looked like a rabbit ready to bolt, but then he shut the book. “Clerics are quite rare in this world, and a specialized cleric is even rarer. But you are… aligned with a god in great disfavour. Melischar is known as the trickster goddess. She is the patron of thieves, gamblers, rebels, and many other undesirables.”

Amara blew a strand of her red hair away from her mouth as she let his words sink in. Of course, she’d arrived in a new world, and she had immediately been branded as an undesirable. While she’d allowed hope to kindle that she could have a new life here—free from her past—it turned out she was just the same old Amara; the one constantly in trouble with the law and looked down upon by all those around her.

“I… I think I should detain you,” Brother Otto said, his voice quavering. “If you have been granted such a class, it speaks to your moral character. I don’t believe you should be loosed on the world until I can contact the bishop…”

Amara pulled up her character sheet again and scanned the page until she spotted what she was looking for: Cloak of Shadows. She wasn’t about to let anyone detain her and if spells worked here like she expected, then she might have a chance to escape.

She activated Cloak of Shadows and almost immediately, the world turned gray like a shroud had descended over her eyes. When she lifted her hand, she only saw the fuzzy outline.

Brother Otto let out a yelp and stumbled back, a look of shock on his face. “Please, you must remain here,” he cried out. “If you don’t, then there is no telling what may happen.”

Amara circled around the distressed monk and then set off in the direction from where he’d arrived. While she couldn’t see an exit, there must be something that way.

Her legs burned as she walked, and soon a thin sheen of sweat beaded on her brow. She still felt weak, though some of the strength was returning to her limbs. But with each step, a gnawing hunger grew.

After I escape from here, I need to find some food.

While the concealment spell was active, it felt like she was burning through some sort of energy in her chest. And with every moment that passed, her reserves shrank. She doubted she could keep this spell up much longer.

She increased her pace, her legs feeling rubbery underneath her. Finally, she spotted a wall with a wooden door in the distance. She hurried forward and passed through the opening and into an unadorned stone hallway beyond.

The spell had begun to sputter like a spent candle by the time she reached the end of the corridor. The hallway opened into a room filled with tables and glowing orbs. At each table sat a person bent over an enormous manuscript, their quills scratching as they wrote on the parchment.

As she stood at the entrance to the room, the last of her energy guttered out and Cloak of Shadows dropped. At her sudden appearance, several of the monks gasped, and half rose to their feet.

Amara didn’t want to give them a chance to react, so she bolted towards the exit. She reached the doorway before the shock of her arrival had worn off and then ducked through it. She found herself in another long hallway, and she hurried past numerous rooms as she searched for an exit.

Finally, she reached the end of the passage and burst outside into blinding sunlight. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dazzling light, and then she saw an open gate on the far side of an immaculately landscaped garden.

She picked her way through the plants and flowers before she stopped at the unguarded archway. This monastery—or whatever it was—was perched on a hill overlooking a city on an island.

Amara couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of the city. Every building shimmered with a rainbow of colours that merged to create a tapestry of incomprehensible beauty. Vast shining bridges spanned the fast-flowing river that encircled the city, and towers of the purest white reached towards the heavens. A thick wall snaked around the island, and at the center, a squat, ominous fortress stood guard.

She only hesitated a moment, and then set off towards the nearby city. The rocks on the path dug into her feet, and her white robes billowed with each gust of wind. She felt unprepared for heading into the unknown dressed in little more than a nightgown, but anything beat being locked up in a monastery.

And, if her new stats were accurate, she might finally experience some good luck. With that hopeful thought, she headed off to explore this new world.