I wasn’t sure how Inari walked so damn fast with those little legs of hers, but I had to lengthen my stride just to keep up. I felt like I was in the Ministry of Silly Walks instead of the Shardhall.

  As I pondered the rush, finally realizing she was most likely running away from me and my stench, I found that I’d lost track of where the hell I was. We’d gone down a few corridors and made some turns, which only told me I was well and truly lost. Unfortunately, there were no signs or pcards spped up on the crystal-like walls to tell me how to get back.

  The room Inari led me to was rger than I expected—maybe fifteen by twenty feet—but somehow still managed to feel like I shouldn’t touch anything. The walls were the same crystalline material as the hallways outside, though more opaque here, like frost gss etched with faint sigils that pulsed gently with Essentia flow. No harsh light, just a soft, ambient glow that made everything feel weirdly calm.

  A single bed sat against the far wall, framed in dark duskwood with a mattress that looked firmer than I’d like but cleaner than I deserved. No sheets, just a single silvery-gray cover that shimmered faintly when I brushed my fingers across it. Cold to the touch but already warming beneath my hand. Magic, no doubt.

  There was a desk in the corner made of polished bckstone, built right into the wall with a matching chair carved from the same material. A few bnk vellum sheets and a crystalline stylus sat waiting, like homework was expected. Hell...no.

  In one corner, I spotted what I assumed was a wardrobe. It was sleek and seamless with no visible handle until Inari tapped it and it parted like a blooming flower. Inside: simple tunics, trousers, and a set of boots that looked suspiciously my size.

  The real surprise was the attached bathing chamber. The door slid open without a sound, revealing a space lined in smooth, pearlescent stone veined with pulsing Essentia. A shower spout curved down from the ceiling like it had grown there, with a half-circle basin below that glowed faintly, as if it were cleansing itself in preparation. No knobs, just a glowing rune pad on the wall that looked ready to do more than just turn on the water.

  Everything about the pce was clean, sterile and efficient like a high-end magical barracks. Eat your heart out, Uncle Sam.

  It didn’t escape my notice that each time I moved around the room, Inari moved to the opposite side. She also wouldn’t hold my gaze—I think she was embarrassed for me.

  “It’s that bad?” I asked.

  Her head was turned from me slightly, eyes closed as if she was hoping to breathe air that wasn’t contaminated by, well, me. “Mmm hmm,” she nodded jerkily.

  “Looks like it’s time for a little scrub-a-dub-dub,” I said, entering the bathing room. “Uh, towels? Soap?” I called, barely catching her quickly darting toward the door to leave.

  Stopping abruptly as if she’d been caught, she winced, and her shoulders slumped. I got it—I really did. She was used to the clean, sterile environment of this pce and here I was, not only an anomaly, but one that smelled as bad as the inside of a gas mask after taco night at the chow hall. And now she had to be in an enclosed space with me.

  Walking briskly into the room—was she holding her breath?--she touched a section of wall that opened soundlessly, exposing various bathing linens, then she pointed at the glowing rune pad under the shower spigot.

  That was it. She just stood there pointing.

  “Hi. Dane Walsh. I’m from another pnet,” I said, not understanding her gesture.

  She let out a long whoosh of air and spoke rapidly. “Turn it on, push it for cleansing soaps, push it again to stop the soaps, turn it more for hotter water, push it twice for fragranced water.”

  With that, she was gone in a fsh. I couldn’t bme her, really. Her eyes were already watering from my mere presence—not something to brag about in this instance.

  Despite Inari’s rapid-fire instructions, I managed to get the shower going. Hot, glorious water cascaded down like liquid mana from heaven. It was a little weird not having some kind of barrier around the shower-tub, but I assumed this was my room for the time being and people wouldn’t just be parading through to find me in my birthday suit.

  I stood motionless, allowing the water to do the heavy lifting. In that moment of solitude, something I’d not had since I’d arrived on Velkarin, I could finally focus and take stock of my life now.

  An entirely different pnet.

  Beyond even magic, whatever crazy shit was going on with my body, and those incredibly angry beasts with superpowers, the fact that I was on a different pnet felt like the most important thing that had happened. I mean, all that other stuff was super important as well, but none of it would have happened if I wasn’t on an entirely DIFFERENT FUCKING PLANET!

  Okay, Marine, smarten up and don’t lose your cool. This may not be your world, but you’ve tangoed with worse than glitter-blooded murder kittens.

  Yep. That did it. A little self-pep talk therapy always put me back on track.

  Anyway, I had shelter, was told I’d get food, and was safe-ish for now. I couldn’t really check that st box since I wasn’t entirely sure what this assessment and attunement thing was about, other than if it went south, I would go six feet under post haste.

  I really hoped it went well. From my understanding, it would be that sexy High Arcanist who would pull the trigger, so to speak, and I didn’t want her to have to live with that. Not when she could come live with me after decidedly not pulling the metaphorical trigger. What a woman.

  Having had only a sideways gnce at Schor Inari Velsh on the dais, or whatever those things are called, I couldn’t really get a read on her. But having been escorted and given a guided tour of my room and shower facilities, my mind strayed back to her.

  Now I could tell that she was small and sharp all over, her tiny frame and features carved with more precision than softness. Her inky bck hair, straight as silk, was pulled back into a tight braid in a functional, neat manner that appeared more out of habit than vanity.

  Her face was pale, likely from hours spent under crystal mplight locked in a library and only coming out when the moon was full. Her high cheekbones, delicate nose, and wide, dark eyes—eyes with depth to them, as if she’d seen more than someone her age should have—gave her the bearing of nobility.

  Sure, she was a delicate little flower, at least what I’d seen of her so far, but I also felt something more. Inari was nowhere near the level of someone like Velira, but with time, it felt like she could be incredibly dangerous.

  And maybe even sexier—damn, what the hell is wrong with me? It has been a while, but holy shitballs, why am I suddenly so horny? Does intergactic travel do that to a man?

  With a few adjustments to the glowing pad, I cooled the water down significantly and then poked it a few times to find the setting for soap. It wouldn’t be my first time taking cold showers to clean, and I figured a little assistance in that area would be better than walking around like a teenage boy in sweatpants with a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.

  I took my time in the shower, cleaning every little nook and cranny twice. I may have gone a little hard on the scented thing, but at least now I smelled like this world’s version of magnolias instead of spoiling guts. The towels were also nice and soft. It felt like the water was being hugged off me instead of just absorbed.

  At least now I wouldn’t be mistaken for a rotting carcass with a high and tight.

  I wasn’t sure where to put the dirty undry. Out of habit, I had folded my Earth clothes before I’d washed and put them to the side so they could be easily found for the fire can. The towel was just draped over the edge of the tub. That left me padding out into the living area, all squeaky clean and as naked as the day I was born, to check on the local attire.

  There was a neatly folded set of clothes on the bed, crisp and unfamiliar. Not a wrinkle on them. A shirt, pants, and undershorts that looked like a cross between boxer briefs and medieval silk armor. No socks, which was a war crime in my book, but the boots—soft leather with reinforced soles and a shimmer of something magical—looked pretty damn comfortable.

  Beside the clothes, I spotted a small note written in a loopy, precise hand that screamed ‘I have perfect penmanship and I know it.’ Probably Inari.

  “Your clothing has been attuned to your aura signature for comfort and Essentia stability. The boots will adapt to your stride. The underyer will wick moisture and resist friction. Please do not attempt to reforge the belt csp—it is already keyed to your Essentia. Lunch will be brought shortly. Please be decent.”

  ‘Please be decent.’ Hell, dy, I was born decent. I just smell like a dead chimera most days now. And what did I know about forges?

  I slipped into the undies and immediately felt like I was being hugged by a cloud that moonlighted as an air conditioner. Everything fit perfectly, too, which was weird considering no one took my measurements. Must be magic. Or she eyeballed me with terrifying precision. Either option was slightly unsettling…or enticing with how much she would have had to stare.

  Just as I was slipping the tunic over my head, the door chimed. And because I have lightning-fast reflexes and the dignity of a Marine in a new nd...

  I tripped over the boots trying to answer the door half-dressed.

  “Coming!” I barked, trying to stuff my head through the wrong hole in the tunic and almost dislocating a shoulder.

  The door hissed open just as I got the tunic halfway down. I was still fiddling with the belt csp when Inari walked in carrying a silver tray that smelled amazing.

  Her steps faltered. I didn’t need to see her face to feel the wave of panic.

  “Oh! Oh no—I—I knocked. You didn’t answer, and I thought—sorry, I thought you were—” Her voice was climbing the octave dder like a squirrel in a panic attack.

  I gnced up, belt in hand, tunic hanging open, and grinned. “Don’t worry, Schor. It’s not the first time a woman’s caught me half-dressed. Probably won’t be the st.”

  She made a strangled noise and practically smmed the tray down on the small crystal-topped table near the wall, eyes fixed anywhere but on me.

  I calmly cinched the belt, took my sweet time, and sat on the edge of the bed with a satisfied grunt. “Smells incredible,” I said. “What is it?”

  Her cheeks were so red I thought they might burst into fme. “There are roasted tubers,” she said defensively, clutching a small cloth napkin like it was a holy relic. “And three kinds of seasoned roots. And broth.”

  “Sounds fancy. Still, I could have really gone for a sandwich,” I said, still watching her squirm. Then I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “Wait a second.”

  She froze. “W-what?”

  “How’d you set out those clothes while I was in the shower?” I asked, pointing toward the rest of the folded outfits and the little note beside them. “The door was open the whole time. I didn’t hear anything.”

  She looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

  “I—I used a projection,” she blurted. “Just a visual projection. Not a corporeal form.”

  I leaned back, steepling my fingers. “So, you projected yourself into my room...while I was naked. And took notes.”

  She turned scarlet. “I did not take notes!”

  “Really? Because it all fits very well,” I said, gesturing at the perfectly tailored tunic.

  “I guessed! I mean, I didn’t guess—well, not in a creepy way—I just—” She looked like she was about to combust on the spot.

  “Rex,” I said, holding up my hands and chuckling. “I’m teasing you, Inari. I appreciate the outfit. Really. It's a damn sight better than blood-soaked jeans.”

  She exhaled shakily, then sat down at the edge of the chair near the table, smoothing her robes. She didn’t look at me, not quite yet.

  I took a bite of the tubers—sweet, earthy, and lightly spiced. Not a sandwich, but not bad.

  Silence stretched between us until I set the fork down and asked, “So, this assessment. What’s it really about?”

  Her gaze flicked up to meet mine. All humor drained from her face.

  “It’s to determine if you’re a danger to yourself or others,” she said softly. “But more than that, it’s to see how you’ve been shaped. By your past. By your world.”

  I nodded slowly. “Velira will be the one running it?”

  “Yes,” she said with a short nod. “In the Echo Vault. It’s protected from outside influences and ambient Essentia. It is a controlled environment, and safe. Erm, at least physically.”

  “And mentally?”

  Inari hesitated, then shook her head. “There’s nothing safe about what you’ll see or feel. The Arcanist will guide the process, but you’ll experience everything again. Your victories, your failures, the moments you’re proud of, and the ones you’ve buried.”

  I went quiet, the tray sitting untouched in my p. “You’re saying I’ll relive it all. Like...actually relive it.”

  She nodded, solemn. “Every emotion. Every wound. Every scream. They call it walking the soul’s edge.”

  I let out a long breath. “I spent a long time forgetting some of those moments, Inari. Years trying to keep the worst ones locked in a box.”

  “I know,” she said gently. “And that’s why it works. Because only someone with scars can be truly known. And only by knowing you, completely, can they decide how to move forward.”

  For the first time, she met my gaze and didn’t look away. “You’ll make it through,” she said. “You already have.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. Then I nodded once. “Guess we’ll find out what kind of man I really am.”

  I didn’t like the heavy silence that followed, so I cleared my throat and stabbed another chunk of whatever root I was eating. “This is great and all, but does nobody in this world eat meat?” I asked between chews.

  Inari blinked, as if surprised by the question. “We do,” she said. “But not as often in the Shardhall. Most of the higher-ranking Arcanists have taken dietary oaths to purify the body and sharpen the mind.”

  “Right. Because nothing says arcane mastery like fiber and fvorless broth.”

  That earned me a reluctant smile. It was small but real.

  We shifted gears after that. The talk of what I’d be walking into in a few hours was shelved, and the conversation meandered into safer territory. I didn’t push. She looked grateful, and I didn’t want to prod too deep after she’d already given me more than I’d expected.

  We spoke for a while—long enough that the broth got cold, and the room took on a deeper hue from the enchanted ceiling lights. She told me about her work, which turned out to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I thought for someone who looked like she should be shelving books and sneezing from too much dust.

  Inari Velsh wasn’t just a glorified scribe or magical maid. She was a Schor—a rank just shy of Arcanist—focused on crystal-thread magic and mnemonic mapping. That was just a fancy way of saying she could root around inside your memories and make sense of the chaos. Not to the level of Velira, of course, but still strong enough that the Shardhall trusted her with higher-level assessments and the training of other Novitiates.

  Most of her time was spent preparing scrolls, refining attunement glyphs, and assisting in mind-magic rituals that supported internal investigations. She was also one of a small group tasked with maintaining the Echo Vault, the pce I’d be walking into in less than about three hours. Apparently, it wasn’t just for assessments. It was a pce where minds were mapped, reconstructed, and even healed.

  That part surprised me.

  “Healed?” I asked.

  She nodded, twirling her fingers absentmindedly to activate a soft shimmer of crystal-thread light. “If someone suffers a traumatic magical backsh or memory fracture, we can sometimes mend the damage. Reweave the essence.”

  “Like magical therapy.”

  She tilted her head, considering it. “Yes, though most wouldn’t describe it so simply.”

  “Most aren’t me.”

  That earned another smile.

  She went on to expin where she’d grown up, in a quiet coastal town that she hadn’t seen in years. She’d been marked for potential at age ten and brought to the Shardhall by a traveling Arcanist. Since then, it had been all studies, rituals, tests, and more studies.

  When she said that, I caught a flicker behind her eyes. Not quite resentment. Not sadness, either. Maybe…longing?

  “You miss it,” I said.

  Her eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise.

  “Your home. You don’t say it, but it’s in your voice.”

  Inari blinked slowly, then nodded once. “I do. Sometimes.”

  I didn’t say anything else. Just picked up the tray and handed it back to her, empty. She took it with careful fingers and stood.

  “You should try to rex,” she said. “The testing will be long.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for the food. And the conversation. Both helped more than you know.”

  She nodded and turned to go, pausing just before the door.

  “And Schor?” I said.

  She gnced back.

  “If you ever want to talk about the coast, or anything else, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her expression softened, and for the first time, she smiled without hesitation. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dane Walsh.”

  The door hissed shut behind her, leaving me in the soft glow of crystal light, the warmth of food in my belly, and just enough comfort to keep the dread at bay.

  I stared at the closed door and sighed. “Is it really that damn hard to just call me Dane?”