Luka, along with the other adults, watched the kids run, swim, and slide until their fingers turned to prunes and the sun kissed their skin. And yet, when Tram announced it was time to go, the kids begged and pleaded to stay.

“This is your fault,” she muttered to Luka.

Without so much as looking at her, he yelled, “The Mayor said ten more minutes!”

The kids exploded into cheers, sprinting back to the slide.

“Oh, you brat. You must’ve been a petty child back in your world.”

Luka gave her a sly smile. “Don’t remember!”

Tram rolled her eyes, leaning against a stone handrail Luka created with magic. It sat along the edge of the cliff, blocking the kids from falling to their doom. “Everyone thank the World Walker before he goes!”

“Thanks!” “Thank you!” “Are you coming back tomorrow?” “Thanks!” yelled the kids at the same time.

“I don’t know,” Luka yelled back. “There’s a lot to do, but I’ll try.”

Satisfied with that, the kids returned their attention to the slide and water.

“Seriously, Luka,” Tram said, devoid of sarcasm. “I haven’t seen the kids that excited in a while. They hide it well, but they don’t fully understand what’s been taken from them. Days like this…” She trailed off.

“Don’t thank me. I just did, well, you saw. Magic. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

The mayor shook her head softly. “You care, and that’s something most take for granted. Ever since the mine collapsed… Bah, look at me getting ahead of myself. Thank you, World Walker, for a morning of fun.”

She held out her hand—a handshake.

“I hope that I’m doing this gesture right,” she said.

Luka took her hand and gently pumped it up and down. “Perfectly.”

A large hand clapped him on the back. “You must be hungry after all that magic,” Franky said, his smile wide, showing off his pierced tusks. “You like meat? Do humans eat meat? Or is that elves?”

“Elves are vegetarians,” Eve supplied. “The surface ones at least. Humans eat whatever.”

Luka felt the need to speak on that. “I do not eat everything.”

“Of course, of course. We orcs don’t eat everything either—like emu or wolf.”

Sebby let out a loose growl.

Franky translated, “He says he wouldn’t eat orc or human, either.”

The wolf made another noise.

“Unless they started it—Hey!” Franky turned on his mount. “You’d eat me if we got in a fight?”

Sebby yipped.

“Not me, but someone else?”

Another yip.

“Okay, fine. Poachers you can eat.”

The walk back to the village only took a few minutes. With some much needed information, Luka connected the dots as he looked around town. A man sweeping his porch with a broom the size of a ruler—obviously a gnome. A woman the size of a hand flying through windows with hummingbird-like wings—a fairy making deliveries.

And now that he was looking for it, the magical strands of hair in his peripheral vision loved to point out magical things in his line of sight. From glowing flowers radiating iridescent light to sections of stone perfectly cut, the strands wrapped themselves where they thought his attention needed to go.

“Magical sight does that,” Eve explained when he asked about it. “It’s part of your subconscious and a left-over from how people evolved on this world—not that you were born of this world. Magic’s a tool, but in ancient times, it was also a destructive force. Monsters were around every corner, and it wasn’t until the gods got their footing that things got better.”

“Goddess Tippy made me a new body to fit this world,” Luka supplied. “And what makes magic dangerous? Can people shoot fireballs and cause thunderstorms?”

She gravely nodded. “Those’re among the safest of the dangerous. There’s still monsters out there—not here, mind you, Emberwood is very safe—but fireballs and thunderstorms wouldn’t so much as slow them down. Magic had to evolve to kill, not just cause some lights in the sky and burns.”

Franky quickly added, “Don’t worry about dangerous magic being used on you—unless you really piss someone off.”

“What about wars?” A pang of pain whipped through Luka’s face and out his nose. He grabbed the reins, his knees wobbling in the stirrups. “What the hell?”

The siblings pulled their mounts to a stop, Leo stopping on his own. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” He touched his nostrils, checking for blood. “I thought my nose just started bleeding.”

“Looks fine to me,” Eve said. “You’re probably just hungry. Let’s get an early lunch.”

They resumed, Franky continuing the conversation, “Anyways, war. There aren’t any, the gods make sure of that with specialized envoys. Murderers and thieves? They’re rare, but happen—the gods can’t watch everywhere at once. Occasionally the gods host wars when their envoys fail but everyone who fights is blessed and aren’t hurt.”

“Emberwood’s as safe as you’ll get.”

“I can see that,” Luka said as they passed a dryad lady painting on a hide canvas in her front yard. The siblings waved, he did as well. “I could see people being really happy here.”

“Some are, sure,” Eve said after a moment of deliberation. “But there are some, like our boss, Mr. Todd, who aren’t. Since the mine closed money’s been hard to come by. Some care for money, others don’t—like the dryads.”

“They don’t care about money?”

“They get food, water, and shelter from the forest—they don’t need to buy anything. Most don’t even have houses, they just walk into a tree and sleep for the night. Some have favorite trees and would spend money to make sure it’s healthy.”

Luka nodded to the lady they just passed. “She has a house.”

Eve smiled. “That’s not a house, it’s a warehouse for her painting materials. She can’t let the canvases get wet from the rain, otherwise they’d shrink.”

Franky chimed in, “That doesn’t mean us Emberwoodians don’t have means of survival here. We just don’t live in luxury. The village takes care of itself, one way or another.”

“Yeah, we haven’t had a proper triple-decker peach cake in months,” she added.

Entering a larger hut with a smoking chimney, the group found themselves in front of a bed of white-hot embers and sizzling meat. Glancing up from the food, an orcish man with deep red skin grunted.

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

“Is that Franky and Eve? It’s been too long, kiddos! How long’s it been!?” the man asked, sweat glistening in the candle light. He wore a sleeveless shirt below a stained apron and held a large dull cleaver that mimicked the tattoos circling his thick arms.

Franky reached his arm out with force, knocking knuckles with the man’s own. As their bones snapped together, both men smiled, unflinching of the sound or pain. They punched each other again, finishing their greeting.

“Clay! We were here just yesterday!” Franky then bellowed, the man, Clay, falling into a fit of laughter.

Eve thrust her fist forward, hitting against Clay’s twice. “Or was it two days ago?” she asked, holding back laughter of her own.

The man casually reached over and flipped a piece of meat—with his bare hand. Juices fell onto the coals, flaming up around his fingertips. One of his cleaver tattoos then glowed bright blue.

“Does that not hurt?” Luka asked.

Clay looked over, his laughter dying. “Huh? Never seen a runic tattoo?”

“Magical tattoo,” Eve said, as if that explained everything. “Absorbs the heat of the grill.”

The cook quirked an eyebrow.

“He’s new to magic,” Franky said. “And hungry! Got anything ready to go? We’ve got to see our aunt.”

“My two best customers are gonna see their crazy aunt? Of course I’ve got something for you, then. But I’ve—”

“Raised my prices,” Franky interrupted, finishing off his sentence. “How many times do you think you’ve said that this year?”

“Eh, at least a thousand. And somehow, I’m still broke!”

Smiles slowly stretched across their faces before both fell victim to the giggles.

Glancing at Luka, Eve whispered, “Inside jokes. Clay never charges anyone in the village. Best hunter-cook we’ve got.”

Clay froze at the statement before loudly gasping. “But he’s not from the village! That means I can charge him! You want a skewer of meat? How ‘bout a grilled ribblelit thigh?”

Franky rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t have any money. How about I give you half-off a drink at Todd’s?”

“Cheap ale?” He mockingly considered for a minute. “Deal! Any preferences, Mr. Penniless?”

Luka slowly looked around at everyone. “Oh. Am I Mr. Penniless? Good one. Two hours isn’t a lot of time to amass wealth.”

Franky clapped him on the back. “He’s got you there, Clay! Just give us three regulars and enough for snacks for Sebby, Leo, and Olive.”

“He’s got me where?” the man asked with his back turned. He slammed his cleaver into a hunk of meat before shoving it onto a thick orange leaf, then repeated several more times. “How does what he said make any sense? What happened two hours ago?”

He held out the platter of food—which Franky took with a salivating grin.

“Bye Clay! Thanks for the grub!” Franky trotted outside. Luka followed closely behind.

“Wait! What happened two hours ago!?”

Eve hesitated in the doorframe. “He was born.” She gave a wicked wink.

Outside, Franky unwrapped the steaming meat and threw a couple chunks to Leo and Sebby—the wolves gobbled them whole. Then he tossed one to Olive, who snatched it out of the air then instantly dropped it on the ground, rolling it in dirt. She proceeded to peck at it until it shredded apart from the bones.

He held a hunk out to Luka.

Gingerly, the World Walker took it and sniffed it. It smelled like salt and thyme, albeit more pumpkin-y than not.

“What is it?”

“Ribblelit.”

Luka blinked at him.

“Uh, a type of toad I think.”

“This is toad? This piece alone is bigger than any toad I’ve ever seen.” Luka held up his other for reference, showing that it was the same size as his fist. “How big does a ribblelit get?”

Franky tore a bite off the bone, glancing at Leo. “About his size.”

Eve took a piece off the top of the pile. “Ribblelit aren’t even the largest size of edible toad. Some dire-variants take up entire lakes.”

Giving the meat a small nibble, Luka paused. “There’s no giant toads hanging out in Emberwood’s lake, right?”

She wiped her lips of grease and juices and motioned at the food. “Where do you think this comes from?”

Loudly, and very purposefully, he sighed, taking a bite. When in Rome…Ribblelit tasted like canned pumpkin and had the texture of gamey quail.

He choked it down. “Does pizza exist in this world?”

“Pee-za?” Franky asked.

“Flat bread with tomato sauce, cheese, and toppings?”

“Maybe? Our local baker usually only makes bread and pastries.”

“Well you’ve got tomatoes and cheese, right?”

“The silver or red kind of tomato?”

“Silver—” he stopped himself, “the red, yeah.”

“We’ve got those. If you want the silver, you’ll have to go into the city.”

Luka tossed Leo the rest of his toad. “I think I know a food the kids would like.”

“Pee-za?”

“Pizza, yeah. Maybe they could even make their own. I remember doing that as a kid and having fun with it…” He thought it over. “I’d need to make an oven for them—but that shouldn’t be too hard. There’s plenty of stone to go around. Is there a fire glyph?”

Eve tore her eyes from Olive, who danced on an ant hill and slurped up the tiny defenders as they rushed out. “Sure. Fire, magma, heat, smithing, each with variants in power, space, and temperature. What do you need?”

“Just one to start a fire. Does dried emberwood have a good taste?”

“The best.”

With his mouth full, Franky asked, “So you want to go back to the lake tomorrow?”

“If you don’t mind. If you two have work, then I think I’d be able to get back there myself. Tram seemed nice enough as a host.”

Eve hummed at that. “She liked you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She didn’t curse you out the moment you said something dumb.”

Franky rolled his eyes. “We’ve got work tonight at the bar. And of course we’d go back to the lake with you. You won’t get rid of us that easily, World Walker!”

“Thank you,” Luka said, truly meaning it. “I would probably be stumbling around that bar still if you two weren’t there to help.”

They entered a grove marked by an overgrown pathway leading away from the village and around the lake. Occasional buildings cropped up among the trees, but most were nothing more than run-down huts or partially caved-in sheds. The dire-beasts followed along, but at some point Sebby and Leo darted off into the bush, returning with a pair of muskrats the size of a ceiling fan. They promptly plopped down and ate a second lunch.

“They’ll catch up when they’re done,” Franky explained as everyone watched Olive try to steal Sebby’s catch. The wolf growled at her, sending her sprinting to Eve. She peered around the orc, hissing.

Eve patted her gently. “You can’t steal food from people, Bird Brain.”

Olive craned her neck around her rider’s shoulder and ruffled her feathers in a big hug.

Franky grunted at the sight. “That bird really is something.” He turned to Luka. “By the way, don’t worry about feeding Leo. He’ll hunt his own prey—then he’ll give you those big ‘ol puppy dog eyes when you’re eating.”

Grabbing Luka on the shoulders, Franky locked eyes with him. “DO. NOT. SUCCUMB. If you give him a treat once! You’ll have to give him some of your food every time! Trust me! I can’t even tell you how much succulent, tender meat I’ve wasted on Sebb—”

A growl echoed through the trees.

“Love you Sebby!” Franky yelled.

The wolf went back to his meal, but kept an eye on the orc.

Finishing the journey down the path, a house sat among the orange trees and overgrown shrubbery. Short, yet wide, the home was built from black basalt and magical wiring. To Luka’s eye, the foundation glowed like Eve’s water glyphs and sung with a gentle radiance. The air hummed, a song playing from within.

Junk and trash dotted the yard, stacks of worthless material gnawed through the grass like dead cornrows. Deep green vines and crumbley brown leaves filled the space in between, connecting the heaps to one another while blocking the pebble walkway to the door.

“All this junk,” Eve spit, “is magical. Don’t touch it unless you want to get cursed.”

Franky rolled his eyes. “Aunty removed all the cursed items when we were kids.”

“So she says—”

She cut her words off when the door opened. Basked in the glow of countless glyphs and the piercing light of refracting crystals, an orcish woman stood hunched. With green immaculately smooth skin, the woman was neither tattooed nor pierced. Instead, a headdress built from the stuffed corpse of an obsidian raven hung on her head and dozens of necklaces of quartz dangled from her neck. Charcoal smeared around her eyes and down her cheeks, marking along her neck and down past her shoulders where they disappeared into her robes.

The woman eyed the trio, then growled, “Alright fine, get in here already!”

The siblings glanced at each other before Eve whispered to Luka, “Don’t stare at the raven nor mention it—especially if she directly asks you about it.”

“Uh what—”

A wave of blue light pulsed from the woman’s fingers, silencing his question. She snapped, magic and power following the gesture. The lawn quickly cleared of pots and pans, crucibles and magical artifacts. The junk reorganized, and the trash disappeared as if they were desert mirages. Then, as a whole, the lawn shrunk, pulling Luka and the siblings one step from the door whether they wanted to or not.

“Well then. Who is this?” she asked,

Eve cleared her throat, taming the malice in her tone. “Aunt Sol. This is Luka—a World Walker. We came to talk about—”

“A World Walker you say?” Sol’s voice trembled with the words. She took a step closer, nearly standing on his feet. “I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life. Say, World Walker, I’ve always wanted to ask your kind one simple question: Do you like my pet raven?”

She pointed up at her headdress, Luka’s eyes following. The stuffed bird twitched, then cawed at him.