Finally.

  Wait! This wasn’t what I was waiting for!

  The void flickered.

  Reality adjusted itself like a glitching screen, and out of the dark, someone materialized.

  Damon.

  “Don’t know how you pulled that off,” he laughed, easy, too damn casual for the moment. “Oof, almost lost you there, fake girl. Had to freeze time to catch your stream, so… yeah. We’re on a timer.”

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even feel my limbs.

  Was I… alive?

  Or whatever this counted as?

  Damon gave me a quick glance, then raised an eyebrow like he’d just remembered I existed. “Oh, right. Hm.” He scratched at the back of his head, almost sheepish. “Sorry, John, but I gotta do it. Not really about you or me anymore. Powerful people twisted my arm, and worse… they figured out how. So when you respawn… well, you won’t anymore.”

  I could see myself, just barely. Peripheral, distant. My body, suspended in this nowhere-space. Frozen.

  Damon pulled out two wands from his inventory, juggling them in one hand like he wasn’t about to dismantle my life. “Right. This time-stop is guzzling resources like a drunk at an open bar, so I gotta be quick. Again, sorry, but not sorry. I’m not looking to die for your sake.”

  The first wand snapped toward me with a flash of sickly light.

  No. No, no, no, of course not.

  Damon groaned. “Come on, Charlie. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  He sighed like he was the victim here, then raised the second wand and tapped it against my forehead with a light bonk.

  Wait—no. No, this isn’t—

  Damon smiled, soft and smug. “Pretty nasty little spell, right? Gotta love loopholes. Wonder how this is even allowed, but hey, I don’t make the rules.”

  He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “Never did like you much as a hero anyway.”

  Damon chuckled, shaking his head like he’d just watched a card trick. “Oh? Looks like the God agrees, you’re a weakling now after all. Works for me.”

  He spun the wand once more.

  “No time to waste. Let’s keep going.”

  “And finally…” Damon raised the wand again, almost lazily. “You lost your protection.”

  He grinned, wolfish.

  “…and I can ban you.”

  He gave a little shrug, like this was just business. “Again, nothing personal, John. Just trying to stay alive.”

  Damon froze.

  I could see it, the way his smile faltered, just a flicker, like the line on a heart monitor flatlining. He blinked hard, eyes darting as if maybe reading it again would change the words.

  “…What do you mean, ‘player not found’?”

  His voice cracked on the last word, spiking up an octave, panic slipping in at the edges. He jerked the wand toward me again, lips moving, muttering a string of commands. The void around us shimmered faintly, like reality itself was confused.

  But the error remained.

  I couldn’t move.

  But if I could?

  I would’ve smiled.

  “No, this is just wrong, you are here in front of me!”

  “I… I don’t understand!” Damon’s voice cracked as he started pacing, each step sharp and nervous. “I did nothing wrong!”

  He stopped, glancing upward, toward the void itself, like it might be watching. Judging.

  “For the record, Sir Nathan,” he called out, voice wobbling just enough to taste the fear, “everything went exactly according to plan.”

  He swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to me. “I did everything right. I do not know how John isn’t showing up as a player.”

  Desperation flickered across his face as he yanked out another wand and pointed it straight at me. A crackle of blue lightning arced down the shaft, snapping toward my chest.

  It burned.

  Or, it should’ve burned.

  Nothing.

  Not even a tingle.

  Damon’s jaw clenched. His hands moved fast, summoning an interface window into the air, fingers flying across the projected keyboard as he typed frantic commands.

  “Last time… last time we were isolated, and I killed you…” His voice trailed off, muttering half to himself, half to whatever invisible audience might be listening. “Wait. I killed the isolated avatar. Not the Rimelion resource. That’s… that’s what I’m working on right now.” His eyes darted wid. “This is so weird. How is this even possible? Wait, wait, time’s out?!”

  He grasped an air at the same as next notice flashed.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I was standing at the top of a mountain.

  No, the mountain.

  A lone peak, soaring impossibly high above the world, its crown piercing the sky itself. Below me, clouds rolled like an endless white sea, the ground so far beneath I couldn’t even imagine the shape of it. The air was thin, tinged with frost and something older, wilder.

  A few wind-warped trees clung to life near the summit, their branches bent and gnarled but stubborn. Patches of hardy meadow grass swayed at their roots, blooming with tiny blue flowers that had no right surviving here.

  I stood near the edge of the cliff, toes just shy of the drop.

  “Aren’t you an interesting one?”

  I spun around. No one was there. Just a single bird perched on a low branch, a crow, or something close. Its feathers black as pitch, but shimmering with an iridescent sheen, hints of violet and green catching the light when it moved.

  “Uh… am I dead?” I asked. “And, uh, who are you?”

  The bird gave a soft rustle of its wings, then hopped to a higher branch, fixing me with eyes too bright, too knowing. “Your life is mystery enough, isn’t it?” The voice was gentle, almost amused, but edged with something ancient. “You deserve answers.”

  The crow’s head tilted, watching me like a chess player sizing up a pawn.

  “I am Saevrin, lord of the Overworld.”

  “Elven… heaven?” I blurted out before he could say more. “No, wait, that’s not right. It’s more complicated.” I stopped myself, rubbing the back of my neck. “Apologies. Sometime I speak before think.”

  Somehow, the crow laughed. A soft, rippling sound. “No need, Charlie,” Saevrin replied.

  “So… what’s going on?” I asked, flopping down onto a nearby boulder. The rock was cold against my skin, a nice little bonus reminder that, yes, I was still stuck in this ridiculous underwear.

  The crow, Saevrin, ruffled his feathers, tilting his head. “You died,” he said simply. “Normally, for someone projecting into our world, I would just… take my time. Reconstruct your body, let you project back into it again.”

  I squinted at him. “Yeah, I’m hearing a ‘but’ in there. I’m guessing this is a because of my soul situation?”

  “Exactly.” Saevrin’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “You were already reborn once, from an existence that… wasn’t.”

  There was a weight in his voice now. Not pity. Not anger. Just… respect, maybe. Or confusion. “I won’t pretend to understand what that all-powerful god your people call the Seed actually did. I can’t comprehend how an entire reality could exist and yet not hold a single soul.”

  The crow fell silent for a moment, feathers shivering in the breeze.

  “But the simulation you were part of, you yourself, still needed a soul when you left that realm. Because everyone in your new home, Earth, needed a soul, as it is proper. No life can exist without it. So the Seed gave you one. Bound you here. To this realm.”

  I sat back, chewing on that. “So… wait.” I waved vaguely at the sky, the ground, all of it. “Is Rimelion… real?”

  “Of course,” Saevrin answered without hesitation. “As real as your world. Two realms, linked through the All—” He stopped, gave an irritable flutter of his wings. “—the Seed. Ugh. Still can’t get used to that name. Apologies.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, same. I guess Riker was right after all,” I muttered. “God, I won’t be able to stand that smug—”

  I stopped myself. Blinked.

  “Wait… can I even go back? To Earth, I mean? What happens now, anyway?”

  Saevrin hopped off his branch and landed lightly on my shoulder. His claws barely touched me, soft as a breeze. “Ah,” he said, voice mixed with frustrating amusement, “that’s the problem, isn’t it? The Seed has decided to give you… a choice.”

  I turned my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “A choice. Yeah. I can already feel the headache setting in.”

  Saevrin ruffled his feathers, a laugh rustling through them like wind through leaves. “One option: leave Rimelion. Go back to your realm, to Earth. But if you do, you’ll never return here. Your friend Damon made sure of that. Their projection system won’t recognize you anymore. They call it a ban.”

  I nodded slowly. Right. Of course, Damon would.

  “And the second option?”

  Saevrin fluttered off my shoulder, landing gracefully on a rock just ahead. His bright eyes pinned me like a bug. “Stay,” he said simply. “Become permanent here. In Rimelion.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What… like an NPC? Locked here? No more Earth trips?”

  He shook his head. “Not quite. The way it will be done… your lives will be linked. One soul, one body, but able to move freely between the realms. You could walk both worlds.”

  I stared at him. Waiting for the catch. Because there’s always a catch.

  Saevrin tilted his head, feathers shimmering. “The Seed agreed to grant this… through me. But only because—” He paused, looking downward as if someone was whispering in his ear. His eyes rolled. “Really? That’s the reason?”

  Another pause.

  “Okay, okay,” he sighed. “The Seed didn’t like being forced to create your soul. Apparently, it holds a grudge. For all knowing and all powerful entity…”

  Saevrin shook his head, feathers rustling faintly. “No magic on Earth. The Seed was clear about that. Your stats might adjust as you walk between realms. Said it’ll be patched as you go, whatever that means. They figured you’d understand the metaphor better than I would.”

  He let out a soft sigh, his wings lifting and falling with the motion.

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, fingers threading through my hair. The boulder beneath me was slick with frost, grounding me more than I liked.

  “Okay,” I said, glancing up at him. “Let’s say I agree to be… one Charlie, two realms. How does that actually work? What’s the logistics here?”

  Saevrin gave a soft, amused caw and hopped down from the rock, pacing in a slow circle around me. His claws clicked lightly against the stone.

  “If you ask me?” His voice was a little too bright, too cheerful. “I’d just throw you off this mountain right now. Random reincarnation, full wipe. You’d lose all your memories, get reborn somewhere in Rimelion, and never touch Earth again.”

  He paused, watching me from the corner of one bright eye.

  “But no,” he continued, with a dramatic flutter of his wings. “The Seed insists on granting you a choice.”

  I shivered. Not from the cold. The way he’d said it. So casually. Like erasing me wouldn’t even crack his afternoon schedule.

  Saevrin vanished in a shimmer of shadow and light, reappearing at the cliff’s edge. He stood there, staring down into the endless clouds below.

  “I’ll judge you as I would anyone from this realm,” he said, quieter now. “Three options, based on the life you’ve lived. You’ll choose one. Keep memories.” His head tilted toward me. “Once you decide, I’ll start the work. Believe me, it is work. Hard work.”

  He turned fully to face me again, feathers sleek against his sides.

  “And it won’t happen without effort on your part, either. You’ll need to find the Children of Gaia. On Earth. They have a device, the only one that can bind your soul between worlds.”

  I straightened, frowning. “And what? Just… ask nicely?”

  Saevrin’s beak curved into something close to a smile. “No. You’ll have to die.”

  My stomach sank.

  “You’ll use their device,” he continued, voice steady, “and when you kill yourself there, using that device, your bodies will merge. One soul. Free to move between both realms.”

  “That’s… I will do it. I can’t lose Rimelion. Judge me.”

  Saevrin’s gaze softened, the edge of his eyes blurring into something almost… regretful. “Oh, Charlie,” he whispered. “You’re not going to like this.”

  “…What now?”

  “Do you know what Damon did to you?”

  I blinked. “No?”

  “He erased you,” he said. “Back to the way you entered Rimelion. Wiped the slate clean. Your achievements, your progress… none of it counts anymore.”

  His voice dipped, going quieter. “…And what’s this?” Saevrin let out a sigh, feathers ruffling as he hopped down and flew the short distance back to my shoulder. This time, his claws gripped tighter, just enough to bite into my skin.

  His eyes narrowed, staring into something I couldn’t see. A haze, a reading, a judgment. “Charlie,” he repeated, softer. “Charlie, Charlie…”

  I felt the prickle of dread crawl up my spine as his talons pressed harder. “Uh… yes?” I managed, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be.

  “Why,” Saevrin asked, tilting his head slowly, “do I see genocide listed as your gravest sin?”

  My breath caught.

  “With no skills, no stats,” he continued, “that sin alone outweighs everything else you’ve done. By a mile. You planned it, Charlie. Given enough time… you would have done it.”

  “What?! No!” I jerked back instinctively, eyes wide. “I—I would never! Who the hell—?!”

  Saevrin’s wings flared once, then tucked neatly back as he glided off my shoulder, perching calmly on the nearest branch. Watching me.

  “Mud wolves,” he said.

  I blinked. Mouth open. Brain stalling hard.

  “Oh.” The word squeaked out. I coughed, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “…Oupsie?”